If my nylons roll down my belly one more time, I may kill someone.

As you may have guessed, being pregnant is not a warm and fuzzy time for me. Being a mom is my favorite role in life, but getting there is just not a pretty process.

There are basically two camps on the whole pregnancy issue. The “magical” camp – where the nine months is a happy jaunt down the pregnancy path, and each nuance is a blissful reminder of the miracle of life going on inside you.

Then there is the camp where I have pitched my tent. I am joined by legions of women who love being mothers, but who would rather skip the swelling, morning sickness, and breasts so sore they hurt to look at them. For me, the only magical element in all of this takes place when the baby takes her first breath. The rest borders on torture and is surely the result of some bad karma along the way.

On a regular basis I hear the phrase, “You are glowing,” from friends, acquaintances and strangers at the mall. My first reaction to this rash of praise was that the water weight was making me slightly iridescent. Then it occurred to me – this is code. It’s all part of the sisterhood of being a mom.

You see, men don’t tell me that I’m glowing, women do - fellow mothers, grandmothers – battleworn women who have felt my pain and are reaching out to a woman in need. When they say I’m glowing, they really mean, “I know how you feel. My ankles were wider than my knees at one point as well, dear friend. Take heart, the end makes the means well worth it.”

I’m coming to the end of this journey for now. And as my due date draws near, I find that the last few weeks of pregnancy are a bit like blowing up a balloon and waiting for the moment when it will finally pop. Each day you wake up wondering, “Is today the day that my life will change forever?”

For a neurotic person like me, that means a myriad of details must be in order at any given moment. Bills must be paid up, laundry must be done, legs must be shaved, toenails painted. (Come on, I didn’t say it was all practical. Even if my feet are the size of tree trunks, they can at least look well-manicured in the stirrups.)

The thought of childbirth does not frighten me as it did the first time around. While living in the “magical” camp, some women feel the need to experience every twinge (if you can call a gut-wrenching twist of pain a twinge) and not interfere with a natural process that women have been experiencing for thousands of years. I, on the other hand, offered to name my daughter after the man who gave me the epidural.

What frightens me most these days is what happens after I take the new baby home. The first few weeks of Kate’s life are all but a blur in my memory, and I didn’t have a toddler demanding French toast sticks while I was adjusting to this new person in the house.

As things stand now, I am perpetually late for work as Kate labors over which pair of big girl panties she will select for the day, and the ensuing drama when she finds that her beloved Dora panties are in the wash and she is stuck with Tinkerbell. Right now, I can’t imagine adding another person, another breakfast and another set of pony-tails to the process.

I’m sure that we will get through this the same way we did the last time – with a few mistakes, a few minor breakdowns, and lots of help from our family and friends.

For now, I will hike up my nylons and enjoy the preferred parking at Giant Eagle. I’ll keep my eye on the prize – the healthy little girl, wrapped in a warm white blanket and placed in my arms.

For that moment alone, I am willing to endure the swollen legs, the sleepless nights, and even the nylons rolling down my belly. For the chance to hold this little person who is rattling around inside right now, I would do anything.

And, if there is still time, I will even wash the Dora panties.

A thirty-something wife and mother, Shelly Belcher lives in McMurray, has lots of opinions, and lots to learn about life, love and the pursuit of happiness. You can send Shelly your comments about her column to shelly.belcher@hotmail.com (She’s still accepting suggestions for her soon-to-be daughter’s name) .