Kicking Dan, 17 weeks 5 days

Things got even realer last night, folks!

Dan and I had gone to bed but were still awake and chatting, when Lego started getting busy doing whatever it is fetuses do. I found it pretty distracting since these were the strongest kicks I have felt yet, so I interrupted whatever we were talking about and put Dan's hand on my stomach. Now, we have tried this a couple times in the past week or so since I've started feeling movement, with no results. But last night, my friends, luck (or fetal growth) was on our side. We didn't have to wait more than a few seconds before Lego obliged us with the hardest kick yet, right under Dan's hand!

We stared at each other in amazement for a couple minutes while Lego showed off for Daddy. He got to feel some pretty good ones and Lego was wiggling all over in there! It was fun trying to figure out where the next one would come from. Gradually the kicks started declining in strength, while I marveled out loud about this life growing inside of me.



This should be where I get kind of sappy about the beautiful miracle of new life or something, but my musings have been less reverential.

I still can't fully wrap my mind around this future person that lives IN me. It reminds me of a line from a movie (Super Troopers? Or something...) where a character warns someone; "I WILL S*#% IN YOU".

THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT LEGO IS DOING TO ME!! Okay, not really. There is no poop. But Lego is definitely peeing in me. And then drinking it. Delightful.

For real though, this pregnancy thing is pretty trippy when you think about it. Medically, Lego is a parasite. Not only is this creature living in me (inside. me. alive.), but it's also living off me. Having lived in a first world country all my life, I really don't have experience with parasites. One would think that by now modern science would have cleaned up this whole process and done away with the parasite thing so that we could all gestate in bottles a la "Brave New World". That just seems so much more orderly. But no, even with the ability to transplant someone's face, modern science can't keep my little parasite alive. In the whole wide world, only I can do that. Trippy.

Thanks to this parasitic relationship, anything that happens to me also happens to Lego. I eat a bagel, so does Lego. I take the dog for a walk, so does Lego. I get in a fender bender, so does Lego. I watch a movie, I get kicked in the gut by Lego. This looks so much less profound when I write it down, but in my head it's pretty crazy to think about. I can't even poop without Lego! If I were to ingest something toxic or pick up some kind of blood born illness, Lego would get sick too. If I forget to take my prenatal vitamin Lego might be born missing a toe, or grow up stupid. If I go out on the town and get drunk, Lego will be born cross eyed and never get beyond the cognitive age of 14 and Dan and I will be stuck with a perpetual melodramatic teenager well into our twilight years.


For the record, I love being pregnant so far. I love my little parasite and I am in constant awe of this whole process. I even love my new little pot belly. I'm glad I get to grow my baby in me and not in a bottle. But I can't help feeling like I'm in a science fiction story sometimes, you know?


One last parting thought. How do you like the name Heidi Heather Heida for girl? I think I find it much more amusing than Dan does.