All of the decisions, from where to have the baby to which prenatal tests to have. The scale. My suddenly sluggish sex drive. The prospect that I might be watching Oprah one afternoon and start crying and never stop. Stretch marks. Having a daughter. Not having a daughter. The next 30 weeks. Labor and delivery. The next 18 years.
But here’s the way I look at it: This is what my body was built for. And thank God for cleavage.