Last week, Greta began to feel Mango move. "It felt like a little" -- she poked her finger into the air -- "*poke*", she said. Soon I was able to put my hand on her ever-burgeoning stomach and feel the "*poke*" for myself.
Lately, though, she says he's been kicking her cervix, and she wants the little dickens to fricking cut it out already. Mango, if you're reading this (via fetus psychic powers), please stop, dude. Come on -- I'll give you Count Chocula when you come out if you do. (Don't tell your mother.)
This wonderful moment in mid-gestation is know as "quickening" ... a delightful, Victorian-sounding term (not be be confused with wettening). Like hundreds of millions of fathers before me, I suddenly feel more connected to our little one ... like he has a personality now. A cervix-kicking personality.
I also feel the cold, clammy sweat of panic on my upper lip ... in just four short months, the child will be a lot louder and rather less portable.
8 comments:
I think it should be called "The Kickening", because I remember Danny doing it to be constantly, right in the freakin' ribs. Ouch!
You're right, the kicking is cool because you feel like there's a little live guy in there, but it can hurt.
Here's some good news, though, that I am living daily: in 10 short years, he'll be rushing out the door when he hears your car pulling up in the driveway and giving you a huge hug, even though you've only been gone a few hours. It's the best thing ever.
And sometimes he even still kicks us, though unintentionally, while cuddling in our bed in the mornings.
i have some bad news for you. as far as i have been able to find, Count Chocula is no longer on the shelves. I've been searching for that, or BooBerry, or Frankenberry to satisfy the kids thirst for sugar + monsters. lucky charms is all i can come up with. Mango will love them.
hey greta / jim
I remember when the poking and kicking started. That definetly was when it became apparent that there was actually someone inside there. I can relate to that moment of realization that it was real.
I think we got a sense of Sadies sleep schedule, because she didnt kick so much at night, and has been a good night sleeper. But.. she kicks all day.
I absolutely love it every single time.
Grets, you may love it now, but talk to us in another couple of months.
Jimma, I think Cocoa Puffs are still around!
Mom, Cocoa Puffs are not the same as Count Chocula! I have looked for that cereal everywhere, too, and it just doesn't exist anymore as far as I can tell.
However, Cocoa Crispies aren't a bad substitute. Lucky Charms are good, but they just aren't chocolate.
I suspect you won't be actually be feeding any of this kind of food to the baby for at least a few years; however, you will probably find yourself eating a lot of breakfast cereal at 3 am when you can't sleep because of little Borat's crazy sleep schedule.
Auntie Teri here:
Greta, how do you feel about people (other than the father of Mango) touching or patting your belly?
Today's Boston Sunday Globe Magazine's "Miss Conduct" column...stuff about etiquette and manners, often quite witty...addresses this issue, so I wondered. Miss Conduct initially suggests you say to the patting person, "Do I look like Lassie to you? Then why are you rubbing my belly?" She then suggests, rightly, I think, that most offenders are doing this involuntarily, the hand reaching out before the brain engages. She ends up advising that you say ("in the same tone of voice in which you say 'excuse me, you're standing on my foot'") the following: "Please don't do that," then carry on as if there had been no interruption.
For the record, I never really minded belly patters (unless they were creepy...or my boss).
Mango No Likey the belly patters. Actually, I don't mind if it's someone I like.
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