The bump is elusive. So far, the bump is solitary. No matter how hard I try to take a good photo, the bump sees me coming and moves so that I miss the shot. I can’t capture the bump in context, because the bump knows I’m there. I shift, the bump shifts. I spin, and the bump spins in the same direction, like a shadow. When I run, the bump seems to glide at the same time and the same speed. I’ve tried to figure out the strategy: the bump doesn’t know my next step, but the bump knows each step as I’m taking it. So, even if I decide to change course, the bump knows exactly when to change course, too. It’s almost like we have the same mind or are in the same body. Completely synchronized.

I try to sneak up from behind, and I see the bump surfacing. A decent moment. Probably the best picture I’ll get on this assignment.

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I try to catch the bump sleeping, unawares. The bump turns toward me as I click the camera, catching me off guard. Foiled again, all I get is another obscured shot. All you can see is a curve, convex, unclear. At least the purple blur is evidence of motion, of life lurking contently in the shadows, as a shadow, breathing, rolling, trying to nudge things out of the way.

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Whenever the bump sleeps, somebody stands guard. The bump is aware of admirers, those eager to see photographic proof of existence, but the bump also values privacy and a certain amount of control over the bump’s own life. The bump wants to establish on the bump’s own terms when would be a good time to shine for the masses.

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The bump senses and greatly appreciates the excitement of friends, but can the bump meet their demands and expectations? When they ask for pictures — NOW — is that a request that the bump feels totally comfortable with? The bump loves love, has a certain affinity for attention and knows how to love in return, but the bump also wants to enjoy quiet moments to ponder life with Mommy and Daddy and develop the love the bump knows everyone deserves. Baby is a part of the bump, after all.

I know many people live far away and can’t see the bump as often as they’d like. Know that I miss you guys so much, but the bump just isn’t ready right now. I will try taking pictures again in two weeks — that’s week 20, the halfway point. Something tells me that the bump and Baby will be ready by then. Thanks for your patience.