I thought I would suck at being pregnant but actually I quite excelled at the sport....I got fat, I ate a lot of cake, occasionally I would venture out to 'Yoga for Pregnancy' classes and wiggle my ass with the rest of the hormonal ladies and I slept as much as humanly possible. I just about perfected the 18 hour sleep except at night when I was routinely woken by Lily doing the fandango in my uterus.
Really one could do with being pregnant for 3 years, like an elephant. 9 months is not enough. To be fair, 3 years is probably not enough for the large reality check you receive on depositing your small parcel of DNA onto planet earth.
I never quite made the connection between being pregnant and having a child, the mental leap was just too much for my rather small and shonky brain to comprehend. I felt her move at 18 weeks, just flutterby sensations at first progressing onto good old footballer kicks by the end, but even then I didn't really register...I was too busy getting my fill of pastries and enjoying being smiled at. In a world where you feel everyone is ignoring you, my humble advice is get up the duff, strangers greet you in the street, old ladies pat your enormous belly, bus conductors let you ride for free.