I remembered these details of yesteryear bath times last week when I was trying to articulate what I was feeling in my belly. It occurred to me that I was feeling the very bubbles that I used to see emerging from under the little blue cup. Gentle, yet urgent flutters rushing to the top. I didn’t think much of these sporadic flickers until I felt them being accompanied by tiny thumps. They were almost like muscle twitches, but they were generating from the inside out. It took me a second to realize that, though it was my body feeling the thump, it wasn’t my body doing the thumping. That left only one possibility… it was little Baby R.
Once I realized that the tiny being responsible for my expanding midsection was also responsible for the drumming I felt inside, I became even more aware of every punch and kick. It seemed like a miracle that such a fragile thing was strong enough to make movements that I could feel. I was determined for Kevin to share in the experience. But the baby’s movements were random and unpredictable and it was difficult to feel them from the surface of my stomach. Then one night I ate a burger. And on the car-ride home, it was like Baby R’s personal symphony. (This clearly excited response to red meat only contributes to my family’s suspicion that the little one is boy.) And, finally, Kevin felt one of the kicks that I’d been cherishing for days. From that point on, they started increasing in frequency. And now, at night when we first lay down, we usually get a few goodnight thumps from our baby before we go to sleep.
I always worried that being pregnant would scare me… that having another living thing take up residence inside me would be too strange and alien-like to appreciate. But, as it turns out, it’s simply fascinating. And I find myself putting my hand on my belly with a more elevated level of the wonder that I’d experienced as a little girl playing with a Tupperware cup in the tub.