I had one of those (few, thus far) cool pregnancy moments last night.
The dress rehearsal ended in a timely fashion and I only beat Bryan home by about ten minutes. We watched the news together (a joy we haven’t had in weeks.. seriously, it’s an event for us) and then went and lay down for bed.
As the websites have urged, Bryan’s been talking to my stomach a lot lately. It was weird at first: when you’ve spent your entire life keeping anything with testicles from even noticing that you have a stomach, it’s odd to welcome attention that general area. But now I’m used to it. Bryan did it the other night and it didn’t even wake me up.
(Which, can I say, totally made me mushy? He talked to the baby while I was asleep? How cute IS that? It’s like vomiting cute, isn’t it?)
Anyway, so last night, he assumed his position with his head on my belly. And he began his usual talk to the baby: “Hello there, baby. Will you come out already? I’m ready to play with you. GET IN MY BELLY.”
And the baby kicked. It was one of the firmer kicks, the ones that you can’t even rationalize off as gas, and it took my breath away. Lil Peep is still too small for the kick to be felt outside of my innards, but the more Bryan talked, the more Peep kicked. It was precious.
I can’t articulate what I felt just then, but all I could do was put my hands on Bryan’s head and thank God that I had been so blessed.
