when i used to think about babies moving around inside the womb i thought it was probably cute. a little kick here, a well placed jab there… you know, miraculous and inspiring. life!
the real deal is not as cute or miraculous. sure, maybe the first few times you’re sitting there thinking, “oh my god! it moved! i’m a vessel and this little wonder growing inside me is alive!” but then reality hits you like a set of swollen ankles that won’t fit your favourite shoes any more.
this kid is not simply readjusting herself to get comfortable, i’m pretty sure she’s either f*cking practising krav maga, rearranging the bulkiest versions of ikea furniture, and / or rolling around the circumference of my stomach in a mac truck tire. sometimes i wonder if she installed a chandelier so she could swing off it like a drunk jock at a nerdy kid’s house party.
don’t get me wrong here, i’m incredibly thankful that she’s active – at least it offers me the comfort of knowing she’s doing a-okay. but if i hadn’t seen the ultrasound image with my very own eye balls, i be running around thinking someone changed my name to ripley and i’d stepped into a real life version of the movie alien.
i’m not even exaggerating. that much…