I was sound asleep. I’m not 100% sure, but I believe I was dreaming of either the secrets of fusion or a cure for cancer, and just about to discover the answers when I was unceremoniously nudged. Not gently.
“Hey, you awake?’
As the lives of millions of people slipped away into the abyss, my mind slowly found it’s way back to reality. It was hastened by another, less gentle nudge.
‘You awake?’ the disembodied voice more forcefully inquired. The neurons in my mind gave up trying to hold onto the secrets of the Universe and switched their attention to the voice. After some minor calculations, they determined it was my wife. They then directed my eyes to open and determine the time. It was early. Too early. Initiate grumpy sequence, they directed.
But before I could furrow my brow and murmur various expletives, my hand was grasped and wrenched onto a large, smooth basketball. And then it happened.
This had been a game for weeks. Kim had wanted to feel the wriggling thing inside of her since she knew she was pregnant. In the early months, I had to endure her many laments of ‘I wanna feel it kick,’ or ‘I want to see it move,’ and even ‘I want it to play my ribcage like a xylophone.’ But alas, for a long time, nothing. Then, gradually she began to feel ‘butterflies’, which she eventually identified as the baby. Butterflies progressed to kicks, kicks to punches, and now it appears the baby does laps in their, mostly butterfly style (how ironic).
This wealth of motion, of course, stops entirely when it’s my turn to feel. It appears that my unborn child has already learned the valuable lesson that when I’m around, it should be sleeping, or otherwise ignoring my prodding. Consequently, I’ve had to endure ‘it was kicking like crazy when you were in the shower’ and ‘it does somersaults during ‘The Bachelor’ but you’re not around to feel it,’ etc.
I was beginning to think this whole pregnancy was a lie, cooked up so she could put on some guilt-free pounds and buy a lot of useless junk just to mess with me. Also, the doctors were in on it. And the insurance company. Actually, in retrospect, I don’t think she could’ve pulled off the ruse. Regardless – the proof was ‘in the movement’ and I wasn’t feeling it.
But now I found myself in an early morning stupor, hand on belly, when the little bugger finally gave his best Pele impression. The belly rose and fell quickly. My first thought was that Kim burped, but since this usually accompanied by a rather loud exultation, and no such noise happened, I came to the realization that there really was something in there to backup all these expensive ultrasounds and ‘expert opinions’. It was a tremendous moment.
And one that is still rare for me. We still play the ‘come here – oh it stopped game,’ but the one experience was enough to keep me going. I assume that as we get closer to ‘B-day’, his/her movements will be easier to see and feel – and I hope that it presses his/her face against the water balloon that is its gooey home and give me what will probably be a very alarming look at his/her unborn visage.
Although it’ll probably just do something cool like that when I’m in the shower.
