New family.

In the beginning, I really wasn't sure I could do this. I know that's a normal thing for a first time mother to think, but that doesn't change the fear in the thought.

The idea of telling my parents, and Jason's parents, felt like the worst part. I don't know why. I know I'm not 16 and that Jason and I live as adults already. Still, part of the scared 16-year-old clings to your psyche for a long time. I thought I had let them all down.

As soon as we told them (in one fell swoop--we drove straight to Jason's parents' house after telling mine), the Adelyn adventure stopped seeming like a terrifying burden and more like a blessing.

That has a lot to do with my own realization that I'm capable of being mother. That I'm 23, not 16. That Jason and I are ready. But I owe a lot of it to two families that never fail to go above and beyond what I hoped and expected of them.

I've read and heard some horror stories about in-laws, pushy mother-in-laws and nosy sister-in-laws. I just happen to have fallen in love with my fiance's family before I even fell in love with him. His sister is one of my best, best friends, and was for years before Jason and I went on our first date. I already loved her parents. I just thought her big brother was, like, totally cute.

And now that family really will be my family. I couldn't be more thankful they're the ones that I get.

Last week, my mom and I went with Jason, his mom and sister to pick out our wedding cake. We went out to eat afterward, and as soon as the first bite of food made its way into my stomach I felt Adelyn start her familiar dance. I scooted my chair over to Jason's mom, grabbing her hand and placing it on my stomach without a warning.

My mom told me later how incredibly touched she'd been to witness my bond with another mother. Because the look on her eyes when she felt Adelyn for the first time was undeniably filled with disbelief and joy and actual, honest adoration--not because of a bond forced together by logistics, but because we actually like each other. Love each other.

And the following week, Jason and I drove to their house to meet them for lunch. When I walked in the door, his usual rough-and-tumble, "let's clean the four-wheelers" dad was waiting with a glass of ice water (because he'd heard it was Adelyn's favorite), ready to feel the movement himself. And when she didn't move for him after I gulped it, he couldn't hide his disappointment. So Jason and I drove all the way back to their house that evening, because she'd started kicking again and we wanted him to feel it, too.

Read more...

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.

Read more...

I touched her foot.

She kicked me so hard at work a few minutes ago I let out an audible gasp and my boss asked "What's wrong?" thinking some breaking news had come across the wires.

She kicked me so hard about two inches to the left of my belly button that I saw my stomach shapeshift through my black dress and sweater. And then I put my hand over the part that was bulging and did my best to send telepathic messages to my daughter to calm down, to stop whatever it was she was trying to do because the movement felt somehow riddled with fear and anxiety.

"Shhhh," I said, quietly this time to keep the coworkers' nosiness at bay.

And she pushed back against my hand, and I felt the indention of a foot--not a vague, fluttering in my lower abdomen but a human FOOT, my daughter's toes, her heel--resting against my palm. And she released, and relaxed, and fell back asleep.

Read more...

Feeling the baby kick.

I felt the baby kick yesterday right before I fell asleep. I've already felt the gurgly, tickly movements in my uterus-area, but this was the first deliberate PING. It felt like a tiny little finger flicking me. From the inside.

I'd just started to doze off when I felt it, and it woke me with a start. Yeah, it's "special" and all, but more than anything it really just felt like someone shaking me saying YOU SERIOUSLY ARE PREGNANT!

I've felt it maybe three times since then, only when I first lie down, and while it does give me a latent, warm-and-fuzzy kind of feeling, I can't help but thinking of the alien from Spaceballs every time. I try to ignore the image, but there it is, in all its tap-dancing glory.

Read more...