Monday, July 12, 2010


I'm a "fluffy" mom to be. In other words a fatty fatty fat fat. We thought it was going to take a while for my husband to get to feel Bea move. But we lucked out. She likes to kick hard in that little area between my stomach and my nether region. You know what I'm talking about. Right where the underwear stops. Think of a guy with a HUGE beer gut. See his pants below his stomach? She kicks at the belt buckle. You know from now on I'm going to call that area the belt buckle.

And when she kicks there I can put my hand on the belt buckle and feel it. And I tell my husband to come over and put his hand there. And then my stubborn little girl, who had been doing jazzercise up to that point, stops and he feels nothing. And we're in that awkward Twister type pose for ten minutes until he gets bored and stops.

Last night Bea was up to her usual antics and I told my husband to come over. He sat down and she stopped. But then POW. A huge kick. And my husband's face lit up the way it did when I told him we were pregnant. It was amazing.

I may be too cynical and too informed to be one hundred percent naively excited about this pregnancy, but thank God my husband can still enjoy it. And I can enjoy it through his enjoyment. I can enjoy it when we pull out the doppler and hear the heartbeat and he gets so excited. I can enjoy his texts that say "I love you two too". And I can enjoy it when my mom talks about her "Sweet Bea" and my MIL says she can't wait to see "what will Bea". (how lucky that we picked a name with so many puns ;o)

I feel so lucky that I can give that to them.