Just keep swimmin'....

Before this point in the pregnancy I would rate Baby Thomas's activity level rivaling that of a slug's. Or perhaps a sloth. But not that cute chatty sloth from Ice Age, the kind you see on the discovery channel, just sitting there hanging upside down from a branch. Or the kind they talk about in the scriptures. You know, the l.a.z.y. kind.

I suppose since I blame him for everything he could blame the laziness on me and it would be fair. It probably is genetic and heaven only knows he doesn't get it from his father. (Check me out! I'm a grownup referring to Josh as "his father". Don't I sound old?)

But this last week something has changed.

Suddenly Thomas is dying to get out of there. Or maybe he just learned to like it in there. Or just discovered a soccer ball to play with. Or figured out how to do flips. Or realized he's alive. Or ran out of reruns to watch (Me too Thomas. Fortunately SYTYCD starts tonight).

He's moving. He's kicking. He's swimming. He's flipping. Who knows what else he's doing in there. Whatever it is it's throwing off my balance.

There's nothing like walking down the hall and having your belly move independently to make you trip over your new and improved enormous feet. I don't actually think my feet have grown that much, they're just swollen and I'm awkward so I'd like to blame it on the body changing....

I swear every time I eat (which is pretty much all day long since Dr. Man told me I could only take 2 bites at a time and then maybe I wouldn't puke so much) the kid is like a fish coming up to be fed. He gets his head  up as high as possible then does flips walking up the walls of the stomach to force his feet over his head. Maybe he'll be one of those weird extreme walking guys.....or the crazy fish from Nemo. (Josh is already trying to teach Thomas to speak whale.) 


I love this kid, but the constant motion is kinda making me sick (this feeling is why I don't do roller coasters. Or heights. Or drive fast over speed bumps or down hills.) And sometimes he hurts! I suspect that "baby fat" is code for "muscles with which to beat you from the inside". But nobody would go "oooohhh...how cute...." over muscles. So they call it "baby fat" instead. And I'm 1000% distracted by it (the constant kicking - are you following what with all the side notes?). And it usually ends in the mother of all seat-drops on my bladder which is currently doubling as a trampoline. Because you know...."make it do or do without". This kid wouldda been a great pioneer.

But here's the thing. I totally love feeling him move. He's a real live person in there! And he's MINE! And my big belly never looks cooler than when he's trying to get out. And he moves even when I don't. And when Josh rests his hand on me he kicks it. And when I rest my hand on my belly he calms down. And I love him. And I can't believe how lucky I am that I get to carry this kid.

So, whether he's swimmin' or kickin' or flippin' or extreme walking, I don't really care. Because secretly, even though it makes me sick and nervous and unbalanced, I really really like it.