Move! Move!

These are words I find myself uttering a lot lately... but in two totally different contexts. The first is in the paranoia that comes with pregnancy apparently. I find myself paranoid about everything from food to early labor to never finding childcare, but the biggest worry right now is when my son stops moving. Because he has been so active lately, I freak on a quiet day. Yesterday he barely moved at all and I found myself poking, pushing at and shaking my belly often yelling "move! move!" He would humor me with a kick or two and then go right back to whatever it was that he was doing that did not involve moving. Already... he's rebelling against me. My assistant, a non-parent, is often amused and somewhat disturbed at the sight of me poking my belly and commanding movement from my child. He asked if I should be poking myself at which point I replied, "look dude, if the doctor can push and pull and poke and prod without hurting him, I'm thinkin' I can too. there's a ton of cushion in there anyway."

The second version of "move! move" is when he seems to be sitting on, kicking, poking or irritating some spot inside. For example, in the last four days something has changed about his size, position or both that has made me go from relatively comfortable to often feeling like I can't breathe because something is crowding my sternum and hurting my rib cage. At this point I find myself pushing whatever it is I feel there down and away from my ribcage saying, "move! move!". Othertimes it almost feels like he is settled too low and I get strange parallel pains on each side of my pelvis that make me feel like he's sitting on... jeez, I don't know what. But it doesn't feel good. So at that point I find myself lifting up my belly and commanding the all too familiar "move! move!"

I get the feeling that I best just get used to the discomfort. I'm only 3 months away from delivery now and getting bigger each day. My lovely innie belly button has stretched to near non-existance (that's the strangest thing to be belly-buttonless) and I'm a definite waddler now. No walking normally for me. Getting up and sitting down is getting more difficult, lying down comfortably in bed is getting more difficult and getting in and out of a vehicle is more difficult. So I think it's just that time.

Can't complain too much, though. All-in-all pregnancy just isn't bad at all. At least mine has not been. I have so many friends who are also preggo who are having a hell of a time and there I am, just pretty much enjoying myself. I have stretching pains every now and then, and it's annoying to be so overheated that I can actually warm those who stand near me and I may have some minor discomfort, but really... I'm enjoying this. My hair looks awesome, my nails are great, I'm LOVING food (yes, still freakin' Carmello bars), I love wearing clothes that don't make me paranoid about looking fat because I already know I am. It's fun. It really is. Now god, nature, fate or karma may have just been tempted by my last statement to make these last 3 months terrible, but somehow I doubt it. I think I'm just one lucky momma...