This Wednesday was – if the doctors’ estimates are right – the halfway point. 20 weeks gone, 20 to go.

I have become used to being pregnant now. Used to seeing a bump when I look down or look in a mirror. To having to take the bump into account when moving – getting out of bed in the morning, or getting on to the bike, or putting my shoes on. To not being able to sleep on my stomach. To not being able to cross my arms at the chest because they then weigh down on the stomach that is being pushed up by the bump.

There is a force of attraction between the bump and my hands. Unconsciously, my hands drift towards the bump to hold it, to rub it, or just to rest on it.