My kid doesn’t move too much. He, like Gail’s Doogal, is the quiet type. Of course, this scares the living shit out of me. I’m convinced he’s either autistic or on the edge of dying at all times. Maybe all that belly laying smooshed his soft spot and, therefore, his brain. Or maybe I played the music too loud and made him deaf, so that’s why he doesn’t move ”enough” when we play music for him. It’s all ridiculous, but this is what pregnancy is. Scaring the shit out of you for no good reason.

The times when he is moving consistently, I call Eric over, “Put your hand here.” He does. Ben stops moving. I swear he does it just to make Eric think I’m insane. This kid’s already a trouble maker.

I have figured out a way to get a couple of little bumps out of him. He HATES when I put anything on my “belly shelf” – you know, the top part of the belly convenient for sitting food, drink, books, etc. – so he smacks at it. If he’s still in breech (which I’m sure he is because all the rough kicks are at my bladder still), then I’d be laying these things right on his head. That makes Ben a very angry boy, but at least I get a couple of thumps feel-able from the outside world.

What a great mom I am, right? Piss off the kid just because I need validation. Yeah, he’s not going to need therapy AT ALL.