I’m lying in the bath, resting my aching bones after dragging Sarah around the city with Jefferson in tow. I did it. I abused Jake’s credit card shamelessly and bought a mountain of stuff for my growing tadpole and its swelling vessel in the form of cute maternity clothes. I was a woman on a mission, pushed and encouraged by Sarah and her undying enthusiasm, gushing over the cutest baby items ever. I don’t have an ounce of guilt over it, either.

Okay, so maybe this baby thing is ...