So I’m pregnant. It’s my first time. And I’m definitely not the type of person who ever pictured themselves pregnant (with the exception maybe of looking at my unbuttoned jeans after an excessive portion of pasta). When I first found out, I felt totally unprepared in terms of information, customs, and the general day-to-day admin of pregnancy. I’ve also never been the type to ask a lot of questions of the pregnant people in my life, meaning I went into this feeling blind.

For those reasons, I’ve decided to share some of my observations and experiences with others like me who might have kept themselves in the dark about what actually goes on when you’ve got the world’s most beloved parasite growing inside of you. Day one: My first day “out” as a pregnant woman on public transport.

Thankfully, my wonderful husband took the initiative to order me a ‘Baby On Board’ badge, which had been sitting on our kitchen counter for a couple of weeks as I worked toward putting aside my pride and wearing the damn thing. But, alas, I am now four months pregnant and have a rather prominent “bump”, which makes me feel like I can finally hold my head high while wearing my badge.

Something I struggled with during the first trimester was that although I didn't look visibly pregnant, I was pretty much constantly nauseous and unable to cope with reality. It was when I needed to sit down more than I ever have in my life. And yet I felt horribly guilty displacing people from their hard-won seats without an obvious, watermelon sized abdominal burden.

I've been a commuter all of my adult life – first in New York City, and now London. I'm familiar with all of the cunning strategies for nabbing seats. I know which carriages are likely to be less full and where to stand on the platform so that the door to the correct carriage will open six inches from my face. I can still remember where to stand on the Manhattan Bound platform of the F train from when I used to get on at Jay Street in Brooklyn every morning (and this was 13 years ago).

So, with that, it feels a bit like cheating to be able to slide into a crowded train and be magically offered up a seat; it’s a bit like getting a gold medal as part of a winning team even though you personally sat on the bench the whole time. However, it's gotten to the point (especially on a hot day) where I need to admit defeat, strap my 'Baby On Board' badge on and take what I can get. I figured I can at least justify this by recording my experiences as a sort of sociological experiment to tell people what it’s really like for pregnant women in the big city... We’ve all heard the horror stories, we all know how rude people can be. I’m here to expose the scumbags!