Last night you were finally still.
Over the weeks since your first flutterings, I have gotten accustomed to dropping off as you gear up for your nightly acrobatics. (BTW, that is not a trampoline. That is my bladder. For real.) Your favorite move is the lap swim from one side of my uterus to the other.
But last night you were still, and I didn't sleep a wink.
I gently whispered and prodded for you to move so that I would know you were okay, and nothing. I wished you were out already so I could see the rise and fall of your chest to know that you were still breathing.
Then it occured to me that once you do arrive, I will worry about what you are putting in your mouth, whether or not you looked both ways before you crossed the street, whether you pick nice friends...don't even get my started on getting a driver's license!
I will try not to be one of those hovering mothers who peels the skin off your hands with so many applications of waterless handcleaner, but I already love you so much. Right now, you are the most protected I will ever be able to make you. I hope, at least occasionally, you will nestle into my warm belly a let me know you are still okay.
love,
mom
P.S. Today, you are definitely making up for lost time. GOOD GRIEF!
