Mostly it’s at night, when I’m done trying to wrestle our lives into submission, that I feel her moving.
It’s nothing that I thought it would be and, for the most part, it startles me every time. I say she kicks, but I don’t know that it’s a foot I’m feeling. It could be a butt. Her arm. Anything.
But she’s moving, and it’s gas-like – that much is true – but much like anything that is not second nature, I struggle trying to accurately explain what it feels like when it’s not happening. Because it’s gas-like. It’s not gas. It’s a cross between a tickle – the kind of ticklish you feel on the roof of your mouth after eating a marshmallow – and a little jab. Also similar to that feeling when you’re on a roller coaster and your stomach drops out a little.
There she goes again. And again. And again.
Glinny likes to lie next to me pretty often these days. As I type this - don’t tell Scott - she’s fast asleep, her head in my lap, directly next to my belly. I think perhaps my daughter is doing all of that moving around because Glinny is snoring pretty loudly right now and driving her crazy. Our daughter probably ought to get used to it; Glinny is crazy. And clingy. I read at Baby Center that it’s not unlikely that Glin senses something is going on. Dogs can get pretty overprotective of their pregnant owners, to a fault, I suppose, if you’re a human who minds a 70-pound Golden Retriever on top of her.
I am not one of those humans.
But Glinny waits at doors, sleeps at my feet – to be fair, she’s always done that – and generally stays by my side. I am pretty excited for our daughter to meet her. Scott and I tell her often that she’s got a good buddy in Glin, and we know she’ll protect her and play with her and teach her how to manipulate the adult humans in the house.
I look very pregnant these days, and I don’t mind so much. Though you should have seen me Saturday night, after taking a picture with my friend, Joy, at her wedding. I couldn’t have been more stunned by how huge I looked, and not at all in that pregannt huge way. It was a lot to take. And also a good reminder that I should go ahead and get my hair done. Maybe try some makeup. In my quest to save money, I quit spending any money on myself at all, and we decided a few bucks couldn’t hurt. Besides, my sister-in-law does my hair.
We talk with our daughter a lot, Scott even more than me. I forget sometimes – OK, all the time – that just because she’s inside of me doesn’t mean she can hear my thoughts. And so even though I talk to her all of the time – “Whoa, sister! What was that all about?” or “Man! Can you believe that guy?” or “I am so sorry about the lack of candidates with integrity or worth in America right now!” - I wonder if it’ll be Scott’s voice she recognizes most. I don’t worry. Just wonder.
It’s been a quiet week, and I’m doing much better managing stress. Lots of sleep. Lots of laughing. Seriously. I’m just choosing to let it all roll off my back and refocus my energies elsewhere. At six months, I’m officially too pregnant to get upset about people, work, anything. One of my favorite bloggers, Jane, recently battled breast cancer. She’s a tough broad, and funny as hell, and I’ve always appreciated her sense of humor.
(Although today on Facebook she took the wind out of my little sails. Whatever. I still love her.)
Anyway, today Jane reminded me of something important about life, especially the bad days: I can say, “I feel really bad today, but I guess it will get better (it always does).”
I’m aware that I’m quoting a life-lesson learned by a woman who just fought cancer, and that she’s actually gone through something life-changing, and it’s not the same as work demands whatsoever. I know this. But those of us lucky enough not to have to go through what Jane just did need to be kicked in the ass now and again. To suck it up and get on with it because it will get better. It always does. And right now? Work is just work. Life is just life.
I can go ahead and stop trying so hard for a couple of hours and let the most important task of my day be figuring out if what I just felt was a wiggle, a kick or jab from an elbow.
I’d bet money Glin knows what’s going on. Rolly was glued to me throughout both of my pregnancies and he decided the babies were his as soon as they arrived. When people came to visit, Rolly sat RIGHT NEXT to whomever held the baby. He planted himself next to their cradle while the napped. He never walked more than six inches from the stroller.
Once I was really sick with a horrible stomach virus. Brandon was traveling and Alex was about six months old. Alex was sitting on a blanket and I started “getting sick.” I ran to the bathroom, with Rolly right behind me. I said, “I’m fine, but can you sit by the baby?” Evidently, I was also dellusional, but HE DID IT! Rolly sat next to Alex for the next 30 minutes while I tossed my dinner.
While the kids are at school, Rolly goes into their bedroom watching and waiting for them to come home. He sits in their little Pottery Barn Chairs, he puts his head on their sweatshirts, he checks every car that drives by just in case it’s big and resembles a bus. Rolly loves them sooooo much, I just don’t think he realized he isn’t one of them. I’m sure he feels cheated that I don’t send him to school everyday or take him to Tae Kwon Do.
Glin’s going to LOVE her, even if she is a conservative!
Erin, it’s so fun for me to read your posts because you and I are not too far apart in our pregnancies (I’m due at the end of January), so we’re experiencing some of the same things at the same time. My little guy has been moving so much lately. Last week I could distinctly determine that what he was doing was “pedaling”, which is something I had read about but couldn’t really imagine what it would feel like until it happened. It made me laugh right out loud!
I want to see your belleh. BELLEH!
I used to do that all the time – assume the baby could hear my thoughts because he/she was inside me. It’s hard to remember that they’re actually a separate being. And yes, she probably will recognise Scott’s voice more, if only because the lower registers are easier for them to hear at this stage. But she’ll know your heartbeat from the inside out.
I never thought about my daughter hearing anything in utero until about month seven, when my parents’ dog barked a really loud, sharp bark right next to me and I felt her startle. This is such cool stuff to experience, as your awe of your body’s power gives way to the beginnings of your baby’s personality — enjoy getting to know your daughter in this way!
And when you feel a tiny rhythmic jerking, over and over again, she has the hiccups.
I just read this review and thought of you, since you’ve blogged about body image issues, especially in relation to your daughter and your pregnancy:
http://blog.pigtailpals.com/2010/11/good-girls-dont-get-fat-a-book-review/
One night when Riley was still an infant and before I’d gone back to work- maybe she was 4 weeks old? – anyway, she was fussy and nothing was working to help her out. I just started rambling on and that helped- but I was running out of things to talk to a 4 week old baby about when I was extremely sleep deprived.
I worked at a help desk and there was this one set of instructions I used a LOT. I mean, easily multiple times a day. I started reciting it and I swear to god it worked. She calmed right down, sighed, and went to sleep all while I went through–
the instructions on how to clear your cookies and cache in Internet Explorer.
I loathed IE 6 and it’s laughable excuse of anything marked “automatically” but because she’d heard me say it a ZILLION times, I think it worked to make her feel comfy again for some reason.
Then again, I’m weird and she’s kinda weird to, so could be that.
Either way, I’m convinced that she did hear and did definitely recognize our voices when she was born.