So, I have to be more careful. The baby in my daily photo (now removed) was a friend’s sweet baby from our birthing class. Not our baby, reapeat, not our baby. Rest assured, when I am no longer pregnant, you will know definitively that the baby you’re looking at is ours, as I will be shouting from the rooftops.

Meanwhile, I am still pregnant. Pregnant enough that I’m expecting a little plastic turkey thermometer to pop out of my tummy at any moment. Sorry about that. Please enjoy the new photo of a great pie place in the Mission.

For almost an entire year, you never once worry about sucking in your gut. Your gut is adorable! If you make any effort whatsoever to be presentable (say, applying lipstick and avoiding sweatpants) people exclaim over how you seem to be glowing. You’re adorable!

You fantasize about reclaiming your high-school figure once the baby is born. You can do this without a moment’s guilt for not heading straight to the gym. “In a few months, I will reclaim my high-school figure!” you think to yourself triumphantly.

You know what sounds good? Cookies.

Wake at 3 a.m. to realize that 3 a.m. is a ridiculous time to be asleep. Draw a bath, shed your nightgown, and soak weightless in the tub. Read the latest New Yorker from cover to cover in absolute silence.

Plug the overflow drain with a washcloth, so the warm water covers your belly and laps against the nape of your neck. When your toes get wrinkly, dry yourself off and turn on a dim light in the living room. Have a cup of tea and a small slice of rosemary cake. Fall asleep on the couch.

There’s something so Karmicly satisfying about this story:

Oops! Unruly flier slaps undercover air marshal

In other news, my return of morning sickness turned out to be an extremely nasty but short-lived bug (food poisoning?). Never has recovering from a flu been a more blissful experience. Thank you all for your good wishes and commiserations. Edith Meyer even sent a delicious little rosemary cake! How lucky do you have to be to have people send you cake when you’re cranky? When does that ever happen? Also, her handwriting was so good that I almost ate the note too.

I’ve decided that I need to put together a little compendium of lovely things about being pregnant to balance my bitching. Forthcoming.

So say you’re about eight months pregnant and things have reached the back-aching, no sleeping, shallow breathing stage.

Now, suppose you come down with a sinus infection that halves your already meager amount of sleep and energy. Then say that the copious nose blowing creates a large cut in one nostril. This cut becomes infected and swells into a nostril cyst. (A visible, dead sexy, nostril cyst.) Huh. Is that a cold sore coming on? It is.

You suffer through through three weeks of swollen feet, stopped-up nose, dry mouth, painful nostril swelling, burgeoning cold sore, and then one morning, you wake up feeling better. You’ve had almost a full night’s sleep, you can imagine a day when you’ll breathe through your nose again, the cut is healing, the cold sore has subsided, you can almost hear Julie Andrews singing through the window.

That night, your long-gone morning sickness returns in full force.

Kiddo, you’d better be pretty effing cute.