Despite doing the usual internet searches and having read the books on sprogging up that have been loaned to me by kind friends, I note that there are a few things no one tells you.
Braxton-Hicks contractions are both scary and painful. The Wikipedia article on the subject must have been written by a robot. "They should be infrequent, irregular, and involve only mild cramping." To which my response gets a bit sweary, frankly. Because, fuck off! It hurts! A metric fuckton! Try getting them in the middle of a meeting or when you're standing on a bus, and tell me if that feels like "mild cramping", you wankers.
No position you can assume will relax you once you pass a certain size threshold. I have passed that threshold. Sitting, standing and lying down are all uncomfortable. My back hurts. My feet hurt. Various limbs go numb periodically. It's horrible, and if anyone had told me in advance that I would have to spend three months in a state of constant physical pain, I would probably have insisted on having a large vat of cooling gel installed in my bathroom and would currently be dictating all my work and this post from there.
At some point it becomes impossible to maintain the topiary conditions of your nether regions. Forget losing sight of your feet. I like to maintain a Brazilian with a razor. Now that most of that area has disappeared under a vast expanse of belly, I find myself largely guessing whether or not I've done a thorough job. And usually I find when I'm looking in the mirror later that I've managed to miss more than one bit, or that the remaining tuft lacks a certain symmetry. The bloke says he doesn't mind forging his way through the jungle if necessary, but dammit, I feel untidy.