About a week ago, the child did some very strange rolly-polly move in my belly and suddenly I was being kicked and punched on both sides of my belly at the same time. I could no longer feel his feet in my ribs, either. Logic dictated that, “Shit, the child has flipped himself sideways” or transverse, for you folks who know what the hell you’re talking about. What other reason could there be for getting raging flails on both sides of my body? I was convinced it was due to those damn exercises, which I will never be doing again, just in case. Plus, the squats made it impossible for me to climb stairs for 3 days.

I bitched and moaned for the entire week about how shitty it was that the kid was sideways. How I was going to have to have a c-section now and how he was doing it just to be a total brat. I threatened to ground him for the rest of eternity unless he did the rolly-polly move the other way, ASAP. I told him I was going to tell on him to the midwives if he didn’t flip. No flipping.

So, today at my appointment I told on him. “I think he may have moved sideways,” I said.
“Let’s check,” she said.
Here’s where she proceeded to grab my belly, trying to find his head…and it hurt, again. It really hurt again. “Huh, I can’t find anythin…OH! There he is…he’s way down here.” Apparently his rolly-polly move was to sufficiently wiggle his way down into my pelvis. His head is so low, she was nearly grabbing my lady bits. I repeat, it hurt.

So. the child’s head is all the way down. My inability to lift my legs without severe pain is completely normal. The fact that my right foot has been swollen for days is completely normal. I’m having contractions every morning for an hour or so starting at about 7am, and it’s completely normal. I had contractions while in the waiting room, also completely normal. Somehow, I’m still pretty sure the child won’t be coming anytime in June but honestly, at this point, I’m very nearly hoping for it.

Dearest Benjamin,

I was inpired by The Girl’s post to have a little misdirection discussion with you. After last week’s visit with the midwife where you were in perfect head down position, where she said you were more likely to stay put than to turn, where she grabbed your head and butt and made you wiggle (sorry about that kid, it hurt me, too), I’m sure you heard your father and I discussing how smart you were. How much smarter you were than we were when we were babies since we were both so misdirected our mothers had to be cut open. We were astounded by your intelligence. We had ourselves an incredibly smart baby. I should’ve known better.

Don’t get me wrong, love, we know you’re smart. We don’t doubt it for one second. You’re just an incredibly intelligent smart-ass. The night after the appointment I began feeling very strange rolling and pushing from you that I hadn’t before. My belly stuck out in weird ways, ways even your father was amazed by. I just thought you were enjoying the steaks he made us. Turns out, you’re so smart you turned the right way just for the midwife and then decided to flip back the other way when we got home. Bad seed.

So, now you’re kicking me in the bladder again and shoving your head into my stomach whenever I eat too much. I have a strange feeling you’ll probably be turning before my next appointment just so I can look like a crazy person for telling the midwife you were ever otherwise. All I ask is that when it’s time for you to be born, you get yourself the right way. The whole rebellious thing is great, but if it requires your momma to be cut open to get you out, you will be grounded until you’re well into your 40’s and then I will marry you off to a large Russian woman who plans to use you as a work mule.

Remember, I warned you.

Love,
Your (not joking) Momma

While talking to Eric this morning, it hit me that we have 6 1/2 weeks until Ben’s predicted arrival. Wait, I don’t think you heard the panic radiating from my fingers…SIX AND A HALF WEEKS! That’s better. We have nothing ready. NOTHING! *insert panicstruck finger freakout here*

I can’t believe how quickly this whole thing has gone by. Don’t get me wrong, I’m incredibly excited to see the little guy. I can’t wait to see who he most resembles, what color his eyes will be, how often he cries, and how well he’ll fit in the car seat so I can leave him to do that crying at my parents’. I am excited, but I’m also scared to death. 6 1/2 weeks is not long enough to get everything ready for him. 6 1/2 weeks is not long enough to become accustomed to the idea of being a mother. And 6 1/2 weeks is definitely not long enough to get used to the idea of no longer feeling these little kicks and flails.

Last night, I pointed to my wiggling belly and giggled to Eric, “Looks like he’s trying to get out!”
“Poor Jess. You’re going to feel a void when he’s out, aren’t you?”
“I’m sure I will for a while.”
He rubbed my belly very sweetly and said, “I’m going to miss it, too. Especially being able to roll over in the mornings and hold you both at one time.”

I’m going to miss that, too.

Eric is now convinced I have a huge alien being inside me and he’s not entirely sure he wants anything to do with it. At least until he comes out and proves himself to be a non-violent human entity.

We were sitting on the couch and Ben started flailing wildly about. As usual, I grabbed Eric’s hand and put it on the part of my belly with the most action. Again, as usual, nothing the minute Eric touches me, for at least a minute or two. Then, suddenly, the child thumps – and I mean, THUMPS – Eric as hard as he can right in his hand. Eric’s response? His eyes get 10 feet high, he exclaims, “WOAH!” and proceeds to yank his hand back as fast as he can.
“That was weird.”
“You should see how it feels from the inside. I told you he hits hard.”
“…..That was weird…..”
“Uh huh….”
“It’s like an alien or something. I’m not putting my hand back there. That scared the shit out of me.”

So, add this to the list one of the million reasons Benjamin is awesome. He’s managed to not only scare the shit out of his father before even being born, but has also convinced him he is some sort of violent, brain eating alien that might just be here to take over the world.

Benjamin’s been on and off this week. While Pax was sick and spending a lot of time on my lap, Ben was moving around quite a bit. He kicked Pax in the leg once, which completely weirded him out. I got a, “WTF was that” look from him. At least I can say they kinda met. He also seemed to move around a lot when I was crying. I like to think it was his way of consoling me. The past couple of days, though, he’s been really quiet. The stress must’ve taken a lot out of him and it can’t help that I haven’t been feeling all that great - emotionally or physcially.

So, I was worried. I’m always worried but sometimes I get so worried, I decide to be proactive about it. I got up and ate breakfast, then created a kick count chart.

I started the counts immediately after some lunch, got to 10 kicks/movements 20 minutes later. I got to 9 kicks in 12 minutes, it took him another 8 minutes to get to 10. He does it on purpose just to freak me out.

On a side note: I miss my dog like crazy. He should be here. I know what we did was right, it was his time and I know we didn’t rush things. I just really wish it wouldn’t have happened. 16 years is not long enough with someone you love. Human or animal, it’s just not nearly long enough.