I can now officially feel the baby moving. Sometimes he kicks affirmatively when Morrison says something wise, sometimes he sort of celebrates with a full body rotation when I take literally anything out of the oven. We’ve established a really comforting daily routine, which is:
- I just felt him move! Isn’t life MAGIC? Isn’t it all so WONDERFUL?
- Hmm. I haven’t felt him move in like ten minutes. That’s fine.
- Yesterday he was definitely moving now.
- Still haven’t felt him move but now it’s been like two hours.
- No I’m definitely sure yesterday he was definitely moving during this entire block of time.
- Maybe I’ll ask him to move or like focus really hard on feeling him move
- Still not moving
- (Morrison accuses me of trying to make a moment with him, tells me to leave him alone)
- (I yell at Morrison)
- WHY ISN’T HE MOVING
- I’M GOING TO GOOGLE WHY HE ISN’T MOVING
- I’M GOING TO CRY IN THE SHOWER BECAUSE HE’S NOT MOVING
- IT’S OVER, EVERYTHING IS OVER
And then, at this exact moment of peak despair, he moves. The smallest of jabs, like, Oh hey. It’s okay. I’m here.
- Isn’t life magic?
- Isn’t it all so wonderful?
- Isn’t this cycle something I will probably live through as a Mother, EACH DAY AND FOREVER?