The movements of the girl have undergone a distinct gear change in the last 24 hours – from what were localised, precise and relatively delicate pokes and pushes, to more of a choreography. I can now feel a series of movements in succession – usually a: ‘bump, bump, bump’, with an accompanying shimmy from one location to another. The force is also increasing – one particular pound made me feel slightly unnerved in a ‘what the hell is inside me’ kind of way.
I’m trying to keep a log of the movements to discern a pattern like the NHS advise (and not kick counting over two hours like they advise in the U.S.), but throughout the day she pretty much reacts whenever I drink a cup of tea or eat something. When I’m hunched over my desk, the angle of my body makes her feel like a worm or centipede wriggling through my abdomen. In the small hours, when it’s quiet and dark and I’m still, she performs a clumsy and chaotic Riverdance in my womb. It half wakes me up, but I lie smiling, half asleep, imagining what her newly formed mind could be thinking.
Bun in the Oven 