My uterus is floating...and other baby news.

Baby Thomas used to like to chill right between my hips - probably because it was safe there. Hips are hard you know. It was cool to feel him growing and taking over more and more of my belly as he grew up above my belly button and headed toward the ribs. But this week it seems like something has gone wrong.

If my uterus were a helium balloon, whoever was standing on the string to keep it down between my hips where it used to live, has accidentally let the balloon go and it has floated up to the ceiling inside me....which is apparently made of my lungs and ribs.

It's not that Baby Thomas grew that big that fast, I can still feel the same small parts of his tiny bone-y self and the lower part of my abdomen has gone back to it's squishy nature, it's just that he's taken my balloon-uterus and relocated. He left the safety and security of my pelvic bones to set up camp in my ribs. Yesterday afternoon he punched straight through my lungs to the inside of my ribcage. Seriously.

If Josh were reading this (which is about the only thing I can guarantee he's NOT doing right now...or ever) he'd be dying laughing over my lack of knowledge about my own insides. "Ha ha ha." he'd laugh "you really think your uterus isn't connected to anything but a ribbon like a balloon? That it can float around your abdominal cavity at will? Do you even KNOW how many guts are in there? There's no room for floating!" he'd lecture. He'd probably get out his anatomy book and remind me of all the guts we saw at Body World so I could remember there's no room for floating.

Then he'd get started on my outlandish claim that my 14" baby can punch through my lungs to the insides of my ribcage in some crazy attempt to jump out of my chest.

Listen Josh. All I know is that I could feel him down there and now I can feel him up here. So any reasonable rational human being would conclude that he has moved from down to up. If that ain't floating, I don't know what is.

In other news his (Baby Thomas') hearing is strengthening which means that when Josh and I try to discuss if he really needs ALL THAT STUFF that Target (and every other store) thinks he needs, he can hear us. I think we'd better start spelling the words we don't want him to hear. "I bet he'll be just fine without a T-O-Y at least until he's 3...don't you think?" "I think we're ready for B-E-D but don't say it out loud or my bladder will immediately shrink."

Maybe I'm giving the kid too much credit. I doubt he's really swimming around in there like a kid trapped in a bubble choosing where he wants to set up camp for the next few days. I also doubt he has enough control over my bladder to make it shrink only at nighttime. And I bet he doesn't really breathe fire up my throat every time I lie down.

Even though these things never EVER happened until he lived in me, and even though I'm sure they'll stop when he's living out of me, and EVEN THOUGH any logical person would certainly link the strange things happening to the "parasite" growing inside me.....I'm willing to give the kid the benefit of the doubt. That's how  you know I'll be a good mom.

BUT you'd better believe that he and I are going to have a nice talk once he's coherent and capable of explaining himself. Because secretly I think he's doing at least some of this on purpose.