They don’t tell you that there are days in pregnancy when you just feel too big for your skin. I felt totally constrained by cords, a turtleneck, an undershirt, a scarf, and thick socks today, but even after stripping them off, the feeling remained, whether in loungewear or in nothing at all. My abdomen strains to both contain itself and yield to the greater force of a growing baby. The feeling never lasts more than a day at a time, but it’s frequent enough to make me restless.
I counted kicks today. It’s not a necessity until the third trimester, but Cinnabun moves so often, I thought I’d may as well practice. Ten movements in 2 hours is a normal/healthy range; this guy managed 10 movements in 12 minutes. For the heck of it, I timed him again 15 minutes later, and was rewarded with 10 movements in less than four minutes.
His movements are getting easier to distinguish these days—a kick or prod feels much different from the roller-coaster queasiness of him rolling over. I was even rewarded with a double punch a few nights ago, with one pop to the right side of my ribcage and another toward my left pelvic bone. They were completely synchronized punches about six times in two minutes. I’m really going to be in for it when he gets big enough to knock the wind out of me in the middle of the night.
My work supervisor, due with a boy in February, asked today if I’d like to inherit some of her maternity clothes that no longer fit. And our landlady offered us her grandson’s “good quality, gently worn, laundered frequently” clothes from infancy up (he’s 8-years-old now). I like this sense of community that having a child brings.