I stand an inch taller than I did last year. I noticed it a few days ago. My husband and I, standing in front of one another, realised something was different. Where my eyes used to meet his, they now point directly towards his forehead. We checked our feet; we were both wearing socks. We checked our positioning; neither of us was on an incline. Everything was as it should be, and yet, it was different.

It should be said that I haven’t actually grown. I think at 27 years of age, my height is pretty set in stone. Nothing explained it until we remembered the most obvious change of the last twelve months: I carried a baby for nine months, gave birth to him in November, and have since carried him everywhere, no matter how much he squirms.

Apparently, if you spend enough time upright with a small human attached to you, your body eventually decides to behave properly. My habitual slouch has surrendered. I am now structurally improved.

So here I am, moving into 2026 with an extra inch. Not metaphorical confidence or emotional growth, but literal........

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