Baby Mania Notification #6

I saw something online yesterday, and it's part of the reason I wanted to reignite this blog. The Internet provides us with so much conflicting information, and we can get sucked up in the mumble. One of my goals this year was to streamline my online time, and I hope that, eventually, this blog will assist me and my readers in that task. There is media online that is worthwhile, and there are countless opportunities to drain our productivity and energy. What I saw was an example of the former, a video encouraging us all to go with the flow of our lives rather than fight against the grain. You can view this video, too.

In the spirit of going with the flow and in the promise I made yesterday, I have decided to take note and take joy in my pregnancy today. What a wonderful day it has been! Little Poof finally awoke from her laziness around two in the afternoon. Who can blame her for being so lethargic after the trial we endured on Wednesday? I'm sure that the cramping, the contractions, the dehydration, and the puking took their toll on her little body as much as they affected me. I could barely get off the couch as I recovered yesterday; how could I expect a tiny fetus to bounce back faster?

I told little Poof last night that I would understand if she needed more rest, and I would not get anxious if I didn't feel her as often as usual. Still, I asked my unborn daughter, I would appreciate a gentle reminder from time to time that she's still kicking...literally. She obliged with little movements that can only be described as tickles. I know her hands are near her head, and I could feel her fingers wiggle through the night. No rolling, or tossing, or turning awoke me. She was mostly still, though clearly active. Her relaxation gave me the opportunity to sleep through the night, but she blessed me with reassurance at every turn.

As an aside, I don't talk to this baby nearly as much as I talked to my little Poop ten years ago. I was so vocal with that little guy, convinced that he could hear me and would learn my voice. I'm not any less certain now that our unborn children get to know us long before they're born. Instead, I'm more comfortable with the idea that they know us intimately, without the need for vocalized human communication. I feel that Poof can feel my thoughts, emotions, and desires. When I start to get really worried about her, she responds with a nudge, a tickle, or a shake. I rarely have to ask her for what I need; she usually understands.

In her understanding way, my daughter took care of my emotional need to feel her presence through our recovery from illness. I appreciated and thanked her for her perseverance, knowing that she was a tired lass. When she finally began to feel herself again, I was delighted at her rolling and kicking. She has less power in her limbs these days, as she has less room to move. Still, she used her knees and hips to get the message across loud and clear: "I'm still here, Ma! Don't worry about me."

It's no wonder that with her infinite infant wisdom and her ability to teach me patience and calmness already, that I would be willing to defer to her more divine plan. My plan is selfishly guided by things like sick days, pant sizes, and hip pain. Her plan is uniquely constructed to align with the most auspicious day for her birth and the greatest chance for her health. Which is more important? I surrender to her wisdom and embrace these discomforts of pregnancy that I have longed to endure for so many years. Going with the flow sure feels great.