Friday, June 12, 2009

Roller Coaster (of Love)

Felt the little giblet move big time last night, no denying it.


It felt like going over the top of a big hill while driving way too fast. I actually leaned forward and went "wuuh--oh!" And then looked down at the pooch. I don't know what I thought I'd see, but after feeling my belly button get tickled from the inside (Not like that. But since we're on the subject, I NEED SOME OF THAT.) I guess I expected some sort of a flag to poke out. Like the kind that shoots out of a fake gun in a cartoon, but instead of "BANG!" it'd say "What up, Momma? IT'S ME!" or... I don't know, something. I haven't been sleeping much, so I'm a little fogged out, but it would totally say something in the way of a greeting.

Can I just tell you that holy shit, what a feeling? I mean... wow. But it's had me all up in the air since I felt it because (BUMMER ALERT!) when I was pregnant last time, the only time I felt the baby move was when she was dying. (I know, I'm sorry. I warned you.) I remember it so clearly- we were coming down the hill, on the way from the cemetery and my mother's funeral, to the picnic we were holding afterward. I was so thrilled to have something on that day be positive, so relieved and excited. Little did I know, right? The only reason I could feel her (I was about 14 weeks along) was because my uterus was losing fluid and... just, blah, whatever, I don't want to get into the sadness right now, and I only mention it to note that this RIGHT HERE, this memory, is the reason that feeling my baby move so strongly is wonderful but still terrifying.

I would give anything to not be afraid, to be confident that we can do this and it's all going to be okay. I would give anything to be free of this heavy, oppressive weight on top of our joy, and I am absolutely Kelly fucking green with envy when I see women breezing through their pregnancy without a care in the world. Oh, how I envy you, that you don't have to TRY to believe that your baby won't die, that you just assume everything will be okay.

Everything will be okay, I think. I think we're okay. And I'm so, so happy about this baby... Jesus, am I ever happy. I irritate myself with the stupid trained-monkey grinning all the time for no reason, because (as you may have noticed here) I am a generally cantankerous person. I try not to be, but I can admit this about myself: I'm a little bit (a lotta bit?) of a crabby pain in the ass sometimes. So this happiness is new, and it's foreign, and I don't trust it. But I'm trying, I am.

Hey, did I mention? I totally felt my baby move for real yesterday. (Feel free to insert monkey grinning *here.* Bananas are in a box next to the door.)


  1. How amazing to stumble on your blog. Two weeks ago I lost our baby at 13 weeks. We have three children but none biologically together, this was going to be our first. Now I am already mentally preparing myself to try again, which we both are determined to do, but scared shitless about. I'm so glad for you to hear your baby is strong and moving, and glad for myself to have found your hopeful story.

  2. @ Maggie: I am so, so sorry for your loss. I know people say that a lot, and I wish there was something else that didn't sound so trite. I am in awe of your courage and strength, to have gone through such an ordeal and already be preparing to try again, you both must have such love in your hearts. I know that until I got pregnant this time, I never thought I'd be able to chance the loss again. Thank you so much for your encouragement, and my heart goes out to you and your partner in baby making-- may you have all the luck and love in the world.