Sproglet keeps wriggling as I write this. Sproglet often wriggles when I write. Actually, Sproglet often wriggles most of the time. Especially after I eat chocolate. Early mornings and late at night are Sproglet's favourite times of day. I lie in bed and inside me my tiny human dances, dances, dances.
I don't know the sex. That was deliberate. I love the mysteriousness. I love looking at my midwife's notes and seeing Estimated Date of Delivery: 14 July. It's like when you're on a long haul flight, and you keep looking back at the screen with the map of the world and the little plane gradually moving across oceans and continents. And you keep reading the estimated time of arrival and even though you're exhausted, the time stamps itself into you, and you can't look at it without feeling a tiny thrill because at that time you'll be landing in another world, and you don't know quite what it will be like.
Only that it will be amazing.