Today was such a good day.
I didn't do anything particularly special - I worked from home, as I've been doing for the past week or so, and as I'll continue to do, while I'm on bed rest. I won't bother to fill in all the blanks between my last post and this, because honestly, there are too many blanks and nowhere near enough words to fill them.
Today was good, because my little baby kicked almost all day. I told Jesse that nothing could make me happier than that little kick-kick-kick. He smiled sweetly at me and then told me that he once feared that I'd be mad about the constant kicking that pregnancy can offer. To his credit, I do get annoyed at repetitive sounds, motions, etc. After all, he only has to tap-tap-tap his fingers for a bar or two of a song before I'm quietly (or not-so-quietly) asking him to stop.
But a baby kicking is different. It's sweet, it's gentle (most of the time), and it's comforting and reassuring. I told Jesse that I already know that I'm going to miss these kicks when our baby boy joins the big open world. He replied that I'd still be getting kicked. True, but those kicks will be accompanied by cries and poop and stuffy noses.
These kicks, now, are sweet and priceless.
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