Sticking my finger in the eye of the beholder.

By the time I was 32 weeks pregnant, my legs and ankles ad swollen to the point of Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man status. I stomped around, expanding by the second and inhaling food like a Japanese hot dog champion. My fingers were not mere sausages, but bratwursts. When my wedding ring no longer squeezed down my supersized finger, I found a gaudy bauble, hoping that a little sparkle and dazzle would make my freakish alien hands appear a little more human. It didn't work.

This is the same time I became taken over by veins. I looked like a road atlas. I had heard (a big fat lie) about some blue lines possibly appearing on my chest, but these were striking red and blue webs streaking up my neck, across my arms and down my giant legs. I looked, well, scary.

I am a light sleeper when I am not harboring a fetus, but at this point in my pregnancy, sleep was a near impossibility for me. I got pregnancy rhinitis, meaning my nose was always stuffy, and as soon as I felt myself drifting into what would eventually be restless and uncomfortable sleep, I would wake myself up with my own loud snoring. Then when I tried to roll from one side to the next I would have to physically lift my giant mountain of a stomach and flip, only to find myself uncomfortable again minutes later. The lack of sleep contributed to my growing beauty with deep purple eye circles.

The one pregnancy symptom I had read about that didn't seem too terrible was the "mask of pregnancy". I little smattering of color across my nose and the apples of my cheeks, a healthy suntan look. I thought that this might actually be complimentary of my pale, freckled skin. Well, think again. My "mask of pregnancy" wasn't so much a mask. It wasn't even on my face. Mine was more of a dark brown neck-beard that looked like I hadn't bathed in a while.

It was horrible. I would waddle down the halls of the school where I teach, sweaty and veiny with black eyes and crumbs falling out of my mouth, eyeballing each classroom for leftover snacks, huffing and puffing and grunting with what appeared to be a dirt beard. Parents pulled their children out of my path. People I didn't even know would say that it would all be over soon, but I never knew if they were reassuring me or themselves.

Winter break couldn't come soon enough.

When I was 36 weeks my OB appointments went from every two weeks to each week. Every time I went in I tried to grin, but my face had gotten so fat that every time I smiled, my eyes would shut. My doctor kept checking me and each time I knew, I just knew that I had made some progress. But each time my doctor told me that no, nothing had changed and that I needed to be patient. She also told me if I wanted to induce labor naturally, I could try several things. Long walks, spicy foods, sex...

When I went home and told my husband my doctors suggestions, we both looked at what had become his Frankenwife (he will deny this until the day he dies but we both know it's true) and we immediately took a three mile walk, followed by spicy curry for dinner. No change. The only other option was sex. We talked about it. I looked in the mirror. I thought, oh just do it, it's no big deal, you don't look that bad. I smiled at my reflection. Then I had an acid-reflux burp.

We decided the baby would come when he was ready.