Thursday, August 18, 2011


Sunday morning, I woke up rather earlier than I usually do.  I'm not a morning person.  I hate the feeling of coming out of a cocoon, of giving up on the imagined world in my dreams.  I've never liked the groggy, painful feeling of opening my eyes to light.  All I want is to burrow back under the covers, every day.

But Sunday was different.  At nearly 20 weeks, I have to get up to go to the bathroom whether my eyes are adjusted to the light or not.  I would usually fall back asleep, except on Sunday, I just wasn't able to.  I laid there on my back, watching the fan and listening to morning sounds I never hear (husband breathing, dog getting up, the morning birds in the backyard).  The soundtrack, really, for the kicking.

Who knows - baby might have been "fluttering," dancing, waking up on his or her own and stretching.  This was just the first time I felt any of that.  It was a breathtaking experience.

This whole week, I've been able to feel the baby move, and for the first time, I feel real excitement over meeting my little one.  I actually *feel* pregnant, too, and more so because this week also marks the first time I've had to wear a BeBand or my maternity shorts consistently.  I'm officially "showing" (though I admit, it chafes a little when people tell me so - another post for another time, perhaps).

I understand the kicking, or whatever my little one is up to, because for me it represents emotions that are familiar; kicking, stretching, just moving around are all things I associate with a need to break free.  A restlessness has begun.  Senioritis, you might say, a little early.  Baby wants to really stretch, though baby could not articulate it.  The halfway mark is important because it indicates that you're halfway to the end.  Appropriate that it would be now that baby is moving so much that I can tell.


No update on Mom tonight.  Dad called yesterday to let me know that she's had some "episodes" and that her systolic blood pressure is virtually undetectable.  We are counting hours, again.  She is ready to move on - and who can blame her, trapped in a body that has long since abandoned its function.

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