Over the past few weeks, there have been a few instances where I thought maybe - just MAYBE - I might be feeling the baby move. It's so hard to tell for sure, what with all the ways that my body feels different these days. I really can't think too hard about it, or I start to want to barf - all those organs shifting, intestines slowing, baby growing and what not. But there have been a few times where I swore I felt the little popcorn popping sensations that I've been reading about.
Then, Saturday night, I finally felt one that made me pretty sure it was the real deal. I was lying in bed, having just finished the ice cream and oreo sundae that has become a staple of my diet. I felt something that felt sort of like when you can feel a gas bubble ricochet through your gut (oh please, like you don't know what I'm talking about), except it was all in one place. I had the distinct impression that it was the baby doing some sort of flip, something like when a whale comes up for air and then dives with a flip of his fluke. In all honesty, it was not a moment of wonder and sentimental tears. I kind of wanted to vomit, and daydreamed briefly about what it would be like when I was admitted to the mental hospital the next day, screaming "get this thing out of me!"
Unsettling as it was, it was also very exciting. Yes, I do have a heart after all. And now that I felt it, I spend all my free time trying to feel it again.