One of the most exciting things that pregnant people wait for is the moment the baby kicks for the first time. It’s like the moment a bride-to-be finds THE wedding dress; a pivotal and highly emotional point in the process.

The day I found the dress I wore on my wedding day wasn’t all that exciting though. I had booked three appointments at different dress shops and made it to two of them. At the first I found one dress I loved that my parents despised. So that was ruled out for the sake of an easy life. In the second shop (the one my mum was convinced I’d find something at) I found my dress.

I’d tried on plenty, most of which didn’t do much for me. I had whittled the choices down to two, fairly similar and traditional gowns. I just kept trying them on until between myself, my mum and my dad we agreed on one. I didn’t feel this rush of emotion that brides are meant to feel, I just thought it ticked the boxes and looked nice.

Don’t get my wrong, I loved my dress on my wedding day and still am happy with my choice but I can’t help feeling I missed out on something special when brides are meant to have this surge of tears as they place the veil and tiara on and realise that it’s their turn while their mums weep in the corner for the sheer beauty of it all. My mum did cry, but I think only because I told her she ought to.

Anyway the digression is relevant. Because everyone had told me that at some point between 14 and 20 weeks of pregnancy you should start to feel the baby kick. I was so excited, after all it is pipped as the dress moment of a pregnancy. And given that yesterday I reached the 20 week mark I have had it on my mind for a few weeks.

Friends had told me not to be too downhearted when the weeks passed by and my foetus seemed to have no interest in kicking me. It had gotten to week 18 and I really hadn’t felt anything.

It finally happened while eating lunch by the pool on my holiday last week. I think. I was munching away on my yummy vegetable wrap when something kind of popped inside me. I paused. It happened again. I told my husband who wanted to put his hand immediately to my stomach and feel it for himself. But that was it, drama over. And it hadn’t felt how I imagined to the point that I wouldn’t be entirely surprised if it had been something far less glamorous and certainly less exciting like trapped wind. (Sorry, I know that’s a little too much information but being preggers does that to you).

Since then I have felt more and more little butterfly movements and pops like bubbles going off. I have no idea if I am now in the kicking club but I am going with the theory that it makes sense at this stage to be that so I am content with this conclusion.

But where’s this overly excited feeling I was meant to get when my foetus popped inside? It’s the wedding dress all over again. Am I such a bad mother that I can’t even be sure whether my child is kicking me or I need to burp? And why didn’t I burst into tears and rush to a computer to announce to everyone I know that I felt a movement the moment it happened?

Hopefully soon the tiny flutters will transform into full-blown unequivocal kicks and then I will be so excited and emotional. I hope.