I have been anxiously waiting for this baby boy to kick. Everyone was asking and I started to feel bad about myself for not feeling it....(you know how women are) Awaiting his first kick became an obsession! I convinced myself that whenever I felt his first kick would be this magical moment and it would "mean" something. When I was sitting at church I would imagine him kicking during the gospel or the Eucharistic celebration, but nothing. When I was eating certain foods, I thought he'd kick to give me a hint of his likes and dislikes, nothing. I even started talking to him (very little, b/c it seems SO awkward right now), but he didn't seem to care.
One night Farmer J and I were awake in the house at the same time (it's harvest and he's usually working so late that I'm asleep when he gets home). We started talking about baby registry, nursery, etc. Let me rephrase that - I started talking about it. I told him every scenario that would pop into my head about the nursery, baby gadgets, what we NEED and what we think we need, etc. He's a caveman at heart and kept shaking his head saying "we don't need that, we'll be ok, etc." His response was frustrating because while I spend every hour of my day thinking about how to prepare for this baby, it seemed like he was just writing off all my ideas. I finally blurted out "What do you think - they are just going to hand us the baby and we'll have everything we need to take care of it!?" cue the hormonal tears - and cue the terrified look in hubby's face.
I ran into the bedroom to cry because I was tired and I just want to lay down. He comes in and tells me he's worried that I'm taking in too many opinions and overwhelming myself. I tell him, that is my personality. I need to be prepared. I'm type A personality. This is soothing for me. I also tell him that I don't care about anyone's opinion except for his and he better have an opinion when I ask (would help if it was the same as mine). So as we are laying in bed I feel something grumbling in my stomach. I turn over onto my back and feel this HUGE KICK. I grab hubby's hand and put it on my stomach hoping he can feel it. There's another one...WOAH! I ask, "Did you feel that!?" He says no. Darn. Magical moment, party of one (and a half)
So as far as signs go...either my baby will be happy when mommy and daddy stop fighting, or my mama's boy will kick his dad when he makes mama cry! Either way it was a cool feeling. And as is EVERYTHING in my life: I built up the expectations of this event and it didn't amount to what I thought it would. Maybe I should just go with the flow...All we really need in the beginning is diapers and breast milk right? .... Nope. Not going to happen. Type A all the way!
High Heels and Grits,
Labels: 22 weeks, baby, pregnancy