According to one of my books, a pregnant woman loses, on average, about 5% of her brain mass. This mass comes back after the pregnancy is over.

Braz says the theory is off by a factor of ten - and that no, she doesn't get it back.

I'm not sure I want to concede that it won't come back. My theory is that it does come back, but since taking care of the new child occupies well more than 5% of the brain, it simply feels like it's still gone.

But I'm beginning to think he may be right about the number being closer to 50%.

Exhibit A: Saturday afternoon, beginning to think about dinner, I asked Matt whose turn it was to provide dinner. (We have this schedule. We take turns providing dinner, and swap every other day. The person who is not providing dinner is in charge of lunch.) Matt looked at me. "What did we have for dinner last night?"

It took me a moment. "Um........... Applebee's!"

"And who paid?"

That took almost as long. "Uh... I did?"

"So it is..."

"Your night to do dinner. Right."

Exhibit B: Sunday afternoon, Matt and I met the Brandts and Jeremy and Elizabeth for a picnic in the park near where everyone else lives. Emma, as usual, was being adorable, playing a game where one of the adults would throw a baseball into the grass, and she would run and fetch it, then announce who should throw next. (I have a name, now. I am "Cheese." It could be worse, I suppose.)

Jeremy said something about her having managed to completely fascinate all six of us.

Six? Surely, there were only five of us! I had to do a quick head-count. Braz... Kris... Elizabeth... Jeremy... Matt... Me... Huhn. How about that. Six.

Exhibit C: When it got too chilly to remain in the park, Kris suggested adjourning to the nearest Ben and Jerry's for ice cream. We left the park, and I got onto the bypass heading in the correct direction - and then completely and totally lost track of how all the roads connect.

Matt had to tell me how to get from the park to the Ben and Jerry's, despite the fact that this was the Ben and Jerry's that was within walking distance of our old apartment.

When I came up on the intersection where I needed to turn, it looked... strange. Unfamiliar. I hit the turn signal, then hesitated. "This is it, right?"

Matt gave me a Look. "Yes."

Exhibit D: Going to bed last night, I had to ask Matt whose turn it was to make lunches this morning.

Mind you, I'd only cooked dinner about three hours prior.

You know, I wouldn't mind so much losing brain mass if the mass that would disappear would be the part I don't use or need. My latent psychic powers. The memory of an argument I had with my best friend when I was six. The ability to play Pac-Man and Centipede.

But no, that's not good enough. I had to lose my short-term memory, my ability to count and perform basic reasoning, and the map of the town I live in.

Another six weeks, and I figure I won't be fit to do anything but sit on the couch and drink broth through a straw. I have to hope desperately that my brain does come back, at least a little, after the baby is born, or poor Matt will have to take care of both of us.

--Liz