Sometimes it hits me. I’m pregnant.
There are moments that it still shocks me. Or at the very least, makes me do a double take.
Like when I catch a side profile of myself in a storefront window or mirror as I walk by. My reaction, yikes, suck in girl! Then I remember. Oh ya, that’s good belly. That’s unsuckinable. (Is that a word? If not, it should be.)
Or when I noticed my belly button was awfully wide suddenly. Expando belly button before the expando belly! And when the linea nigra appeared.
Then there are the bigger reminders. The in your face reality that I am growing a human being.
Like hearing the heartbeat for the first time. The quiet anticipation as Doc moves the machine over my belly. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Then boom, a badah badah badah. Quick, steady beats. My breath is quite literally taken away, as both relief and joy flood over me. This is real.
A few weeks later comes the first ultrasound. After high-fiving Bal that it is not twins (a short-lived worry), it hits me that that image up there is in me. In me! We are in awe as we see fingers and toes and a spine and a beating heart. That is not just any little Skeletor. That is our Little Skeletor.
A few weeks later still, comes another ultrasound. Gidget is bigger. Baby’s grown and there is interaction. I watch onscreen as baby punches into the blackness on screen. But wait, immediately after I watch it, I feel it.
Sometimes it hits me. Quite literally.
I am pregnant.