First Kicks! Our little gymnast...

For the last few weeks I have been embarrassingly eager about entering the period of pregnancy where you can actually feel the baby moving. With all the screwy little inconveniences of pregnancy, the ability to actually feel your child moving within you seemed to me like the ultimate benefit. So for a while when I lay down at night I try to be very still and concentrate really hard and any little thing makes me wonder "was that it?" and then "How will I ever really know?"

Yesterday I decided in the afternoon that I really wanted to catch the performance of Dirty Dancing (Broadway in Chicago) downtown. I had a discount code good for at least $20 off tickets but it was only good through yesterday. So all spontaneously I called up, ordered two tickets and Terry and I were off to the theater. While walking from the el to the theater, we passed a Garret's Popcorn place (which I have been wanting like a maniac) so we stopped in to get some. We sat on the planters outside our theater while I ate caramel and cheese popcorn and generally enjoyed the unusually temperate evening.

That day Gabrielle had told me the story about how she felt her son kick when she went to the opera. The soprano hit a particularly soaring note and the baby kicked. I was recounting this story to Terry while chowing on popcorn. I joked with him that her kid was all culture and opera, but maybe our kid would be into Dirty Dancing. Munching a little more popcorn I added, "and baby loves popcorn."

We went inside and got settled into our seats. Then as we were just sitting around waiting for things to start, I leaned over and put my head on Terry's shoulder, which sort of crunched up my stomach a bit. Then, all of the sudden, clear as day there it was. My eyes flew open in surprise. I waited for a second one because I wanted to be sure before I told Terry. I didn't have to wait long. There is was again. It was so very clear and distinct. How could I have missed that before? I turned to Terry and said, "I'm not kidding, the baby just kicked!" and he said "Are you sure?" and just to dispel any doubt, the baby kicked again right then. "Yeah, I'm definitely sure."

I was so distracted by the kicking that I had a hard time paying attention to the show at times. The kid was so active! The baby must have kicked more than thirty times during the show, and once kicked me so hard it made me jump in my seat. It didn't hurt, it just surprised the heck out of me. Who knew a kid with legs as thick as your pinky finger could pack such a punch?

Before I felt it, I had read that people describe those first kicks with terms like "flutter" "nudge" or (poetic eh) gas bubbles. Once I felt it, I could sort of see where that was coming from, but none of those descriptions seemed quite right. Flutter was too faint to describe it but it correctly suggested the quick tempo. Nudge had the amount of pressure right, but seemed too slow. To me, it felt most like the way it feels to put your finger on your neck and take your pulse. Not as regular and paced as a pulse, but about that amount of quickness and force to each one.

Terry really wanted to be able to feel it too, and I wanted to share that with him, but all the books say that the dad can't really feel the baby kick for another four weeks. Even so, later that weekend when we were up at Camp Anokijig, we were sitting around the campfire. I told Terry, "Boy, the kid is really active right now! A regular gymnast" and he said "I want to feel!" So he put his hand on my lower abdomen and I moved it until he was pressing right where the kicks usually come. I felt a faint one and said "There's one" but he didnt seem to have felt anything. But when the next one came it was pretty strong and before I could even say anything, I saw him sit up with a giant smile. He said he felt something move, but it was very faint. Still, it was incredibly nice to share that with him. And I particularly liked the poetic setting: at an Anokijig campfire.