COCOONED
Down my arms, a thousand satellites
Suddenly discover signs of life
- Touch, by Sleeping At Last
Feeling a baby move inside me is one of the most unique parts of being pregnant. It's unlike anything I could have imagined, and yet is perfectly natural, too. It's almost a kind of secret; how often I feel the tiny yet strengthening movements throughout the day. I can be sitting and taking minutes during a meeting, or having a conversation with someone, or walking down a hall, and no one knows of the barrage of kicks, jabs, and turns happening within. They continue to surprise me. Hello, I think, so active!
Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and have a harder-than-before time going back to sleep because baby will be awake and moving around like he's having a party. My doctor told me that the natural rhythm of my movements through the day rocks him into sleep, and how it's when I'm still that he is more apt to be awake and active. It can feel like he's trying to communicate: hey you there, the one carrying me! Why so still? It's time to move!
His movements, which are a reminder of new life, often juxtapose against other events in the world. The other week, I received news that a a coworker's husband had suddenly died. Even as I sat in shock, trying to process, baby gave a little flutter and a strong kick. Despite any news, any tragedy, baby is there, reminding me of his presence with his movements. The sensation may be internal for now, though it brings me out of myself; before long, baby boy will be in the world and will need all my focus and care. Hey, I imagine him saying, don't be blue. I'm coming; just wait till you meet me.
Another coworker was especially effected by the news because her father died just a few years before in the very same way. That afternoon, I knocked on her office door. She opened it, but looked pissed. Her reaction was to be closed off and angry. I wanted to offer her a hug but could tell she'd say no. I could tell she wanted me to leave. Instead, I changed the subject. I brought up baby, and almost immediately her demeanor changed. Her wall slipped down. She reached out a tentative hand and I invited her to touch my belly. (I love when people do that. I truly do.). Suddenly, she was smiling. We began talking about in-vitro hiccups and walking with a slight waddle, which made her laugh. I think how maybe her touching my belly, her being the one to reach out and have a moment of contact, focused on baby, was better than a hug.
New life brings hope in the midst of death. Sometimes I feel guilty, thinking about how lucky I am with my baby and husband when I see so many things fall apart. Yet, I believe that a baby can also be a gift to those in close proximity. It's a signal of newness and continuation. Friends and family are excited, sometimes giddily so. Even strangers ask me when I'm due and if it's my first, more often than I would have expected! I am a walking conversation starter, it turns out. Yet sweet as those moments can be, it's the private ones which still mean the most. It's the kicks in the middle of the night, the hiccups while I'm in a meeting, the little jabs which my husband feels and which make us coo and laugh over, which I'll recall with the most fondness. Yes little one, I think, you're awake! I like to feel you move. Your daddy does too. We're excited to meet you. There's a whole world out here; it's filled with hard things, but many really great things too, like your arrival. Just wait and see.
