BUMP in the night

This past Saturday night, I was almost asleep in a very comfy hotel bed, when I was attacked. I guess it was more of an accidental assault really. There I was, minding my own business, snoozing comfortably on my back, with my hand resting on my tummy, when BOOM! My lil alien kicks my hand right the hell off my tummy. Scared the ever-loving crap out of me. I flew out of bed, and screamed at the top of my lungs.

Of course I knew this was coming. Babies are alive, and they move, and sooner or later I was going to KNOW she was moving. But JEEZE! She didn’t bother getting me warmed up to the kicks she will be providing me with for the next 3-4 months, she went right for the “wake the hell up Mommy” kicks! My knee-jerk reaction was sorta like when you have a bee fly down your shirt, and the whole “AHHHH! Get it off! Get it off!” I don’t care what other people say, being waken up by your own belly kicking you is bazaar!

Once I got my heart rate under control, I got back in bed and just stared dumb-founded at my belly. She continued her little dance for about an hour, and I could watch her kicks and rolls moving all around my belly. Watching her, it became less and less “creepy horror movie with aliens in belly” and more and more “oh my god, that’s my baby.”

Because of the obstacles being thrown at me the past few months, I haven’t been enjoying my pregnancy. I’ve been missing out on the excitement of it all. I have been trying SO hard to get into it, but it just wasn’t working… Now I feel her dance at least once a day, and it is the most amazing thing I have ever experienced. At most this only happens for an hour a day, but I feel like this is a step in the right direction. Thank you baby Wednesday.

What ISN'T happening to me

I'm a big journal writer. I'm talking about the old fashioned pen-on-paper kind of journal. I've been writing in it since I was 7. I've been going through the hardest time I have ever faced, and I just realized I haven't written down one word of it in my journal. I've also realized the reason that I haven't written it down is because, by writing it down, spelling it out, it is all really happening. It can't really be happening.

Boober isn't really gone. I'm not pregnant when I can't imagine how I can handle a baby. My boyfriend of 8 years didn't break up with me in the middle of all of this because he needs to be alone. I'm not preparing for him to move out of our home. Since that isn't happening, my mom isn't obligated to uproot her life to come live with me.

I'm not scared, lonely, heartbroken, guilt ridden, or depressed. Thank god none of this is really happening.