I got on the tube this morning, pushed my tummy out and cupped it nurturingly. This was directed at a young man, sprawled out on a seat, half reading the Metro. He didn’t respond, but a 20 stone heavily sweating, red faced woman did. She got up for me and I felt terrible. She clearly needed the seat more than I did. I felt like I had conned her.

It’s been well over two weeks since I last wrote properly.

In this time we have seen you again, seen a little foot kick and a little arm move, heard your heartbeat, seen my tum nudge forward just a tiny bit, broke down in tears at my cumbersome shape, had your father’s 29th birthday and got shot at by the neighbour. I have also:

told my work
emailed the world
clutched the photo of you close to my chest
bought a baby name book
started jotting down names I like and ones I don’t like
managed a smile when people ask if I’m excited, rather than a worrisome nod
sneaked a look at the maternity gear in top shop (and was massively disappointed)
upped my intake of green veg and funny looking sprouting beans
stopped going to the toilet 5 times a night
outgrown yet another bra

It feels like time is speeding up. This is good. I think it’s because I’m no longer in a state of permanent exhaustion. Now I want to go out, see people and do things. I think I finally feel pregnant. It will be better when I properly LOOK pregnant. At the moment I just look like some fat bird. Funny thing though yesterday, a man got up to let me have his seat on the tube. I wasn’t sure if it was because he thought I was up the duff or because he was being kind. It felt pretty good.

I heard a sad thing today. I heard that someone, someone just like me, had lost their baby. She was 2 months pregnant. She was the unlucky 25%. She saw her baby, just like we saw you, but there was no heartbeat.

I feel sad and yet shamefully pleased that it wasn’t us.

You are 10 weeks today and I am feeling crap. I have a bloody snotty scabby nose. My belly is swollen and bloated. I feel fat and ugly. If I feel like this now, just how am I going to feel in 6 months time?

I am getting impatient now. I'm counting down the days until the 12 week scan. I want to have the all clear to tell the world, to tell work, to focus properly on the months ahead. Maybe then it will feel more real and we'll start to plan for December. We've not really talked about it properly. We don't really know where you'll go, where your things will go, where our relatives will go.We don't even know if I'll be able to manage the stairs into the flat. But do you know what the funny thing is? We don't even mind that much. As long as you are healthy, as long as we're all happy, then we'll just muddle through.

Bloody hayfever. Pesky doctors say I can't take any drugs to make it go away. Snuffly nose, itchy eyes. How am I going to survive the summer?

Tomorrow you will meet your Grandpa, my Daddy. For many years I was a Daddy's girl. I lived for him, adored him beyond words. I didn't think there could ever be room for another man in my life, that no one could compare. Then I met your Daddy. Seven years ago. I was nothing more than a child myself but I knew right away that he would be the man I'd marry. He made me laugh, he made me cry, he told me I was the most beautiful girl in the world, that my soft, rounded curves made him feel like he'd come home.

Now I live for him. Our world is just that – it's ours. Sometimes we can go days and it's only about the two of us. We could have done that forever but we knew that we could share that love with someone else. That our powerful love could make a child feel secure and confident in this complex world. That child is you. Already we love you with a force that is beyond our control.