The Pregnancy Joke.

You will glow. You will feel powerful. You will feel beautiful. You will experience the greatest joy. You will experience love you can't imagine.

Your life will change. Forever.

These are all truths and all part of the big fat joke about having a baby.

I have two children who I absolutely worship and I've definitely guzzled the mommy Kool-Aid of how I can't imagine my life any other way, blah, blah, blah. But even so, when I look back on how I got here - to the place of being a mother - I can't help but feel like throwing my hands in the air and just saying "you got me!" as if I've been victim of one of life's greatest pranks.

You decide you're "ready" to get pregnant. Or at least as ready as a person can be for their life to irrevocably change in ways that can't truly be understood or planned for. For finances to double and vacations to just be fond memories of days gone. So now that you're "ready," WTF?! Why can't you get pregnant?! I personally spent many, many years trying to NOT get pregnant with my husband. Only to later find out that it was impossible for me to get pregnant without modern medicine. I consider this prank #1.

Prank #2 is having spent a lifetime believing pregnancy is nine months, only to learn it's actually 10. Yes, 40 weeks of gestating a human in your body. Weird.

Prank #3 is when you learn the hard way that morning sickness is not an accurate name for what you feel. It's like calling a hangover a morning hangover. You don't just feel awful when you wake after a night of excessive drinking. You feel that way all day. Now, imagine if you had a hangover that lasted for months. Yeah. Awesome.

You glow. No, you actually don't. This is prank #4. Glow is a "safe word." That's it. It's the only thing people can say to you that has nothing to do with your body and that sounds like a compliment.

Prank #5 is being told that you only need to consume an additional 300 calories a day while pregnant. SHUT THE F UP! I mean seriously?! Seriously?! I'm supposed to handle the emotional, physical, psychological challenges and changes of carrying a human around for 40 weeks and you want me to satiate my insatiable hunger with what equates to a banana and some peanut butter? Furthermore, I've been forced to give up caffeine and alcohol and all I get is a banana and some PB? Um, no.

Boobs. I can't possibly skip this gem. Maybe I was not informed, but I did not expect that my boobs would get even bigger after I gave birth. I watched them grow two sizes during my pregnancy and then another two sizes post-delivery.  I'm feeding a baby, not a calf. Prank #6

Similarly to how morning sickness is not accurately named, maternity clothes should be maternity and post-maternity clothes because you're stuck wearing them for way longer than you hoped or planned, making this prank #7. And then with the new big boobs, you have the joy of the maternity pants being too big, but regular pants not being big enough. Shirts that fit, even with a big belly, don't fit with your enormous boobs. #postbabyFAIL.

"It's ok to have sex six weeks after having the baby." BAH HA HA HA HA HA! Approaching a woman for sex six weeks after delivery is like daring a person to try to pet the lion at the zoo. You will be eaten alive. Killed on the spot. In other words, don't do it. But that fact that this is even the time frame considered reasonable is prank #8.

You thought your mom was just being neurotic when she would always ask you to go to the bathroom before getting in the car. It wasn't that she was neurotic. It's that she was scarred from your childhood. Kids always shit their diapers before leaving the house or as soon as they are strapped into a car seat. Making attempts at going anywhere and the impossibility of being on time prank #9.

Now for prank #10. This is my least favorite one of them all. Who knew that becoming a mother meant I would become afraid of the dark? Yes, afraid. When darkness falls...it's scary to be a parent. You try all day to tee-up the perfect night. Fed at that appropriate times and tummy full at bedtime? Check. Hydrated but not so much that they will wet the bed? Check. Solid nap at the right nap time? Check. And yet you still say "sleep tight" and close the door and an indescribable fear comes over you, not knowing if you will make it to morning without seeing the little person you tucked in. Or if that "terrorist" you just put to bed is about to give you the big ole middle finger during the night in the form of "mommy!" and "daddy!" and "WAH WAH WAH." Forget "sleeping like a baby" and welcome to "nightmare on your street."