Hey Baby

The other day, I felt it. Not the fluttering, "quickening" or kicking of my baby moving, but a feeling all the same. For weeks, the only indication I had that I was pregnant was the all-day sickness, frequent trips to the bathroom, and an appetite for nothing more than baked potatoes and my mom's pancake recipe. When I finally felt better, it was time to host family and friends, get married, and begin my third year of school. Thoughts of this elusive baby were centered on finding daycare, shopping for a crib, stockpiling diapers, squishing my expanding waistline into my jeans, and generally worrying about how I would juggle being a mother, student, and research assistant in a few months.

On this day, however, I was sitting on the couch after class, hand on my belly. I had read that I might be able to feel the first flutters any week now so I was concentrating on any kind of feeling. And then it happened. Not a kick, but a realization. I understood for the first time that I had a baby. My baby. I could picture her, just big enough to fit in my hand. And I fell in a kind of love that I'd never felt before. A protective, I will do anything, anytime, anywhere for you because you're my baby, kind of love.

I immediately emailed my mom and tried to put the feeling into words, but I didn't have to try very hard because she understood. I finally had a tiny glimmer of how much she must love me. I cannot imagine how I will feel when I finally meet this little one.