Kick me one more time

Forgive me. This is going to be one of those touchy-feely mama posts. Skip it if that isn't your thing.

I have begun to feel the faint movements of my baby moving inside me. They are gentle flutters, and I can tell that I will be plagued by the same worry that I experienced during my first pregnancy with Zack. I'm not feeling enough. When I was pregnant with Zachary, his kicks were some how buffered or muted inside me. Other women would complain of the painful punches their babies bestowed upon them, while I would sit and stew. Why? Why didn't I feel the baby? Hours would pass. I would knead my stomach trying to get Zack in a position so that I could feel him move. Nothing. Eventually I would end up in my doctor's office, worried and defeated. They would hook me up to the monitor and look at me with wonder. Don't you feel that? He's practically doing an Irish jig in there! But I felt very little. Since than I have learned that some women feel less due to the baby's position, or how everything is situated inside. But it gives me little comfort, because I'm left with just not knowing.

Evan was different. I felt everything. He moved constantly and predictably. I was thankful for every kick, because it told me he is was thriving, alive, healthy.

So as I sit here near twenty weeks, feeling only tiny ripples from time to time, I remind myself that this is normal, and I try to be satisfied with faith. He is in there. He is moving, and it is magical.

This is the third time around for me and yet, it is still no less than miraculous. Feeling the independent movements of a human being inside of me, a baby that came from nothing but a few cells, it's mind blowing. I look at Evan and Zachary and see what they have become, children, little people, and I know that a whole new life is inside of me at this very moment. I am humbled. It doesn't seem possible that my body could do something so perfectly amazing, and yet it's happening. Right now.

Over the past several months I have wished away the pregnancy, wanting nothing more than to press the fast foward button and arrive at my son's birthday. This is the last time I will ever be pregnant. Years will pass by, and perhaps I'll take my pregnancies for granted. Maybe I will even forget how it all began, how my children were a physical part of me. Now that I am feeling better, I want to focus on the magic of what is happening. I want to take it all in, and hold it forever. I want to feel each kick and treasure the thump of a tiny foot inside.

Kick me baby! I want to feel you.