Remy’s developing some noticable habits. Like, for example, when I sit forward to a degree that the bottom of my uterus get’s a little compressed, I get kicky-kicky-kicks right at those spots. After this has happened about 30-40 times, I’m getting the distinct impression that the little one doesn’t like to feel crowded. This is a pretty funny thought when you realize this is coming from a fetus whose whole world is the size of a volleyball, give or take, all inside the confines of my personal space. Which he’s more than welcome to, of course.
I swear, though, that if Remy could talk, he’d be saying, “Yo, chick! You’re crowding me. Personal space! Sheesh.” It makes some genetic sense because neither Mommy Alicia nor Daddy Gary really likes to feel crowded either, but now I’m having images of an infant that likes to be swaddled all except around his feet. I could wrap him up like a cute, little baby present and watch him wiggle wiggle his feet until the blanket comes untucked, much like his Daddy does with the bedsheets. That’s what I’m imagining.
I wasn’t imagining, however, waking up this morning at 4 am. I laid there in a half asleep state hoping to slip back into slumber until being startled by a big THUD in my belly. My goodness, that little one can lay on a good one every now and then! Which explained why I was awake in the first place. You try and sleep with a kickboxing tournament going on in your abdomen. I eventually did after the obligatory umpteenth night time pee break, because that’s what we preggy ladies do. Pee a lot.