Actually I'm not sure what I thought it would be like.
But not like this anyhow.
One the one hand I've totally embraced the idea, having all but entirely stopped going to the gym the moment the baby was confirmed.
I can't believe how massive I am already.
I know this probably isn't helped by mainlining Twirls after most meals, but this can't all be chocolate.
Bodies must remember and just pop out. I think possibly more so with the unfit body variety where tummy muscles aren't so evident.
After my 12 week scan someone asked me if I'd just had the 20 week one. I was delighted. Obviously.
I'm out of breath all the time. I only need to walk up a very slight incline and I'm wheezing like a pervy crank caller.
And as if that's not enough, I'm more tired than I've been in living memory. This is the kind of tired where I could rest my eyes 'for a moment' on the bus to work and wake up at the depo.
But the flip side of it is there's no time to really think about being pregnant, or consider that there's someone in there.
In fact Nancy probably talks about the baby more than us.
She likes to pull up my top and kiss my tummy and tell the baby she's its big sister.
She also likes to smack my stomach as hard as she can, whilst pre-empting the apology she'll have to give by saying 'it's not funny, is it mummy?', mid wallop.
When I was pregnant with Nancy, she had a name. Pootle.
We talked about 'it' most nights. How our life would change. What kind of parents we might be. What it might look like.
I religiously watched 'One Born Every Minute', trying to imagine what it would be like when it was my turn, while crying my face off every time a new mum was passed her newborn.
But this time, and I feel dreadful saying this, I sometimes forget I'm pregnant.
Not entirely, obviously.
There's no way you can ignore a gut this massive.
I mean I forget there's something actually growing in there.
I guess this is what happens after your first child. Life continues. And you just get on with it.
But I'm going to try and make space in my head to think about this little guy and how the three of us are going to become four.
Maybe while having another cup of bloody decaf tea, and my third Twirl of the day.