There's a moment, somewhere around the middle of pregnancy, when you stop waiting for it to feel real and it just — does. For me, it was a Tuesday afternoon. I was sitting cross-legged on our bedroom floor, eating strawberries straight from the punnet, and I looked down and thought: there's a person in there. Not in a panicked way. In a soft, full, almost laughing kind of way.
I've been thinking a lot about how to write this, because pregnancy — especially a first pregnancy — exists in a language that's both completely universal and impossibly personal. Every woman who has done this knows it. And yet when it's yours, it feels like no one could possibly understand the specific texture of it.
So I'm going to try to write it honestly. Not as an expert. Not as someone who has it figured out. But as someone still very much inside it — learning as I go, finding small rituals that hold me, and slowly making peace with a body and a life I am coming to know for the first time.