Kick

The wife woke me up this morning by grabbing my hand and putting it on her belly.

“Feel.”

I was coming out of a fairly complicated dream involving time machines and Halloween parades, but after a few seconds I felt it: kick.

I woke up properly.  She asked, “did you feel that?”

I didn’t move, waiting for another one.  And it came, full force:

KICK.

“Holy cow, that was huge,” I said.  Not only was it feel-able, it was strong.  Purposeful.  Somebody’s in there.

The last several weeks, I’ve been waiting and feeling with no luck.  I’d detect little murmurs here and there, but I was never quite sure if I was feeling a baby or a heartbeat, maybe Carey’s stomach growling.  I’d tried to coax them now and then (“Gnomes, this is your father.  Let me know you’re in there, please.”), but this was the real thing.

I took my hand away and looked at her belly.  After a few seconds, a tiny bulge popped up-down where my hand had been.  Another kick.  And this time I was seeing it.

I’m not sure if it was B or C, but someone near the top wanted to let me know they’re there.

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