The word quickening, referring to the movement of a baby in utero being felt by the woman, has always been my favorite way to think about feeling a baby kick for the first time. It sounds magical, almost like the baby is zapped alive at that point.
Last night I felt the baby quicken.
I started my 22nd week yesterday, and I was starting to get just a little bit nervous that I hadn’t felt the bebe yet. I hadn’t felt anything like people described as a baby moving in your belly: popcorn popping, bubbles, gas, etc. Since I knew I was supposed to be feeling it any time now, I was paying extra close attention to my belly, but nothing was happening. I pay pretty close attention to my body, so I knew that I probably hadn’t missed anything. On Sunday I felt something, but it was quick and didn’t happen again. I felt it again the next night, but again, it was so brief that I wondered if I’d perhaps imagined it. Dave was gone Monday night and Tuesday night at a training, so I took those nights to pay attention to my belly, holding my hand there until I fell asleep, waiting to feel something.
Then last night, both Dave and I put our hands on my belly as we were lying in bed, and I felt a little pop. “Did you feel that?” I asked him. It happened three times, and I finally said, “Are you doing that?” “Doing what?” Then I felt a definite kick, and had him put his hand on my belly without my hand. That’s when we got a nice big kick!
It’s so funny that the bebe chose last night to start being active, almost like he was waiting for Dave to get back home. I know that’s such a silly thought, but these pregnancy hormones make me want to cry when I think about that! So ridiculous. 😉
With the quickening, I feel like I’ve finally reached my last milestone. I know there’s so much farther to go, but with this first pregnancy, the possibility of losing the baby has been niggling at the back of my mind. I think I can let that go now.
But the other thing that I’ve started thinking about a lot recently is, What the heck have I gotten myself into?! Eighteen years! And that’s just until he becomes responsible for himself, that doesn’t include all the worrying I’ll do until the day I die. Oy vey.