Josa Young has two children, aged eleven and eight. She’s now 41 and expecting another baby early next year. 30 weeks into pregnancy, this is her diary

Remember I insisted on seeing the consultant?

It was a bit of an anticlimax in the end. Very brisk and NHS. From now on, my visits are every two weeks and mostly with him rather than my midwife. I asked anxiously about being induced at 38 weeks. It seems this is not his policy at all, thank goodness, although he won’t let me go beyond 40 weeks. This is fine. As my mother died seven years ago, one of my oldest friends has offered to come and stay after the birth. It will help her to organise herself if I know when this is to be.

They sucked off huge syringes full of my blood to look at my haemoglobin levels and examined my pee sample as usual. All normal, as usual. No swelling anywhere. Even my cheekbones are still evident. It always feels rather exciting to go to the hospital. As you spend your days thinking about trying to be as normal as possible, it is nice to be a specifically pregnant person for a change.

In a gesture of startling intimacy, the professor presses the end of the measuring tape firmly into my pubic bone and pulls it up to the fundus, or top of the womb – 30cm. The curious thing is that the number of centimetres corresponds approximately to the number of weeks. Those who see synchronicity in the world might believe that this means we are meant to be metric after all.

The baby is lying with his back upwards instead of his bottom. His head is lodged about half way down my left side. Sometimes it feels as if he is stretching out from side to side, as small hard bumps appear which I try to identify. I can’t even work out if it’s his back or his head I’m feeling. This is a better position than true transverse lay – which means the baby is back down and impossible to give birth to. If he doesn’t move head down by week 34, the obstetrician will do something called cephalic inversion, which means manipulating him from the outside to make him go downwards. This can be quite risky, as the placenta is vulnerable to damage. I hope it won’t be necessary.

Growing apace

I feel very large. My waist measurement, normally 26 inches, is now 40 inches and growing by the day. I have also put on about a stone and a half since conception, which isn’t too bad. In the bath, I teach my eight-year-old son about surface tension by dripping water into my tummy button until it forms a mound before spilling over. He says the bump is an island with a pond in the middle. He climbs onto my lap, remarking that, at this rate, I won’t have one to climb onto for much longer.

Maud, 11, is reading Libby Purves’ excellent book How not to be a Perfect Mother to prepare herself for her role after the birth. She keeps giggling over Libby’s amusing remarks about projectile vomiting etc.

The worst thing is my left hip joint, which keeps me awake at night with a dull ache. I have devised a method of draping my left leg over the side of the bed to take the pressure off the joint. This is often enough to allow me to curl up, pillow between the knees, and go back to sleep.

According to the books, the baby now has a fine head of hair and slate grey eyes. He has hiccups from time to time. The magazines urge you to pamper yourself during pregnancy, as you won’t get a chance afterwards. Where am I supposed to find the time? I think to myself as I look at my list of deadlines.

See Anastasia Brien's pregnancy diary for weeks 30-32.