Article: By Men'[s Health editor Andy Ellis from Fitpregnancy

It was fun putting the thing in there, but boy, was it marvellous watching it grow – and I’m not talking baby here. I’m talking woman. My pregnant woman. The benefit to a guy cohabiting with a pregnant gal? His partner develops a new bust.

Not just any bust. A glowing celebration of abundance kinda bust. An Eighth Natural Wonderbra of The World. A Cadbury’s Milk Tray. The sight of pregnant breasts will motivate a committed man to travel 45km, on foot, over hot coals, to source one ripe avocado to satisfy their supreme cravings.

They’re a passion, man. They’re life itself. And then there’s the tummy. A tender little bump filled with morning sickness at first, but one that soon turns to solids. Or duck liver pâté. Or flat Coke. Whatever it needs.

A pregnant tummy is a vibrant pound of flesh, one that commands respect, even of the elderly in Pick ‘n Pay on pension day. It’s got a kick. It makes people give way. But me? I wanted to hold it. Snuggle it at three in the morning. Not just because it contained my child, but because it was sexy. Downright sexy.

I’m not talking about the heaving wheelbarrow mass that most people associate with pregnancy. That’s unfair. I’m talking about the beautiful mound that, in my eyes, gently rose from the sexual tension of a pair of low-slung Levi’s. Something that grew (better). Now combine that with that bust. Wow.

For the last trimester – eternity if you’re the one who is pregnant, like yesterday if you’re the perv lusting after it – I couldn’t contain myself. I wanted to parade this woman at parties. Show her to my boss. Serve her to anyone wanting a visual slice of pregnant pie.

Not everyone’s this passionate about pregnancy. I have mates who went all holier-than-thou over this period. What, was sex with their glowing wives going to corrupt their unborn child? Please. That bizarre mentality made their wives feel ugly, out of shape. It’s true. Instead of prancing around like the true goddesses of multiplication they were, they hid behind a veil of maternity wear. What a waste.

Girl, you’ve got to get that thing out there. Push it forward. Wear it to the beach. Just because Victorians dressed in drabs of denial doesn’t mean you have to.

Celebrate that blinkin’ bump. It is the ultimate fashion accessory. Your pregnant tummy symbolises love. Commitment. The Forever After you’ve always dreamt of. Stuff that’s hard to come by. But trust me, it won’t be around for long. Nine months is all you have to enjoy it with your man.

And then a baby will pop out. I’ll never forget the night before my daughter was born. It was only then that I realised how important the pregnancy was to me. I had shared in the beauty of carrying our unborn child; now I was nervous of losing out. I wanted to preserve the intimacy we had created – mom, unborn child and me. We were the perfect family. It seemed that birth would alter that – and it does. It gets better. Go forth and multiply.

Andy Ellis is editor of Men’s Health