Since I last wrote, things have changed: the summer has arrived in full shimmering force, no longer do i simply undo my flies under a long top – i wear floaty dresses and summer tops with maternity jeans (great invention) instead, and babs has regular dancing sessions in my belly.
It is apparently the period when baby is still small and therefore as a lot of space to perform acrobats in the womb. Give it another couple of months and she (yes, it’s a girl!) will be too squashed in to sommersault, but not enough to pack a decent punch.
Physical changes aside, one of the biggest changes to have happened in the last month or so is a growing feeling that I can actually be a Mum. Gone – forever – is the time of disconnect with those who have children. The time when you listen to their parenting stories and reply with “oh, that must be tough”, or, “ah, that’s nice”, and hope the conversation will change rapidly since you can’t yet imagine yourself as a parent.
It’s not that I want to listen to more of these family stories, it’s that I can now see myself in those shoes.
And here’s something: I already find my child funny. All I have to do is watch my tummy moving with the kicks and turns of babs and i’m reaching for the camera to record it and giggling.
5 months pregnant and it’s happening!
