Evidence of Life.

After all the aches and pains and weight gain and belly stretching, the one major mark of this pregnancy has become feeling Adelyn move. I wake up and wait for the movement. I sit at work and wait for the movement. I sit on my couch watching TV freaking out when I don't feel movement for ten minutes, and then I sit for ten more simply staring at my stomach, watching the little ripples and strange vibrations take over.

It's both wonderful and weird, and something I doubt I'll ever become totally innured to. There's a human inside of my stomach, and that has still not become easy knowledge. It feels alien.

I've always been scared of feeling real evidence of my body working. If I can hear my heart beating in my chest when I lie down to sleep, I have to switch positions until the thump-thumping goes away. I hate feeling my heart beating. I hate even more when I accidentally touch a spot on my wrist or neck that's on top of some major vein, where I can feel the blood whurring by. I don't sit and marvel at the wonder of life, of the circulatory system, of God--I just get plain freaked out by these things I cannot control. My blood is whurring and my heart is thumping and if it were to stop, there would be nothing I could do about it except stop, too.

I think it's the same fear with feeling Adelyn. The very first time I felt one of those major, deliberate, acute kicks, and felt with my hand the angular shape of her knee, her elbow, her finger or heel--whatever she was jabbing against my stomach at the time--I had the exact same reaction I do to hearing my heart working. I changed positions until I couldn't feel her or see her anymore. Because to feel her so acutely means that she's more than just a thought or an idea-- she's a tangible thing, a human who has a heart beat and a circulatory system that I cannot control. If I can't feel her heart beating, I would never be able to feel it stop beating, either.