I’ve started gathering a list of things I want to do and eat as soon as the baby is out of my body: A cold beer, a sinfully bloody steak, my beloved runny eggs, sushi, cheesecake, a good sausage… All right, the list is heavier on “to eat” items than on “to do” items… Truth is that before your first pregnancy, you can’t imagine how many things you’re not supposed to eat while a little one is hooked up to your blood stream. It’s kind of a sacrifice, and at the same time, I’ve started to realize that this sharing of my body with some tiny one is also neat in other ways…
The baby store called today to announce that our crib was finally there, ready for pick up. Unable to contain my excitement, I immediately called Joey. He laughed. I sounded like a little bird almost incapable of emitting any sound different than a very specific chant/whistle of joy. I mean, shit! I’ve been waiting for this crib a full ten days, which is nothing in normal people’s time, but eternity when every night you go to bed buzzing with all kinds of crazy decorating ideas in your head, and the crib on the room is the first step to begin the process.
We get to the store, and the warehouse guy wearing a black cap with white little horns coming out of it (the vision was memorable) tells us that the crib won’t fit in our car. Sure thing, in 2007 you must have a big-ass truck to carry anything around. This was probably the smallest crib on the store, and yet, Joey couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw the box. Me? I was way to upset to think, or see, or speak. The conclusion was that we couldn’t take the crib tonight, and the store simply gave us a delivery guy’s phone number to arrange delivery for $50. I look at the name, “Bruce”, and between the thought of Bruce not being able to deliver tomorrow, and the disappointment of the crib not fitting, I drop a couple of F-bombs to spice up my dialogue and express my discontent — just in case somebody wasn’t aware. I’m sure horns-guy probably thinks I am a bitch, and what can I say: I am.
But my husband knows me, and instead of getting angry at me for acting like a pampered brat with no reason to be mad at anybody, he understands my disappointment and acts tenderly towards me. He understands, and in compensation for the agravio will take me to Maggie Moo’s (favorite ice cream) after dinner. We’re getting on the highway and while quiet, I am upset beyond reason… and apparently so is Bolliti. I start feeling all kinds of sudden movement inside my belly. Baby is jumping and kicking around the pots and chickens in his rancho and going all “What the hell?”, so I tell Joey that Bolliti is furious and raising hell, as upset as I am about all this. How could you not laugh?
Yes. Since I started noticing my baby’s moving patterns, I’ve been curious and have recently read that babies in utero become active after mom takes a meal, and when mom has a rush of adrenaline. So I get the science. But I’ve also noticed that my Bolliti is also very active right before I am supposed to take a meal (whether I feel hungry or not). Kind of like “Hmm! 4:00 pm… time for our daily brownie and ice cream, huh?”. And does he seem to love sweets! Yes, I know… It’s the sugar/glucose rush going through the blood stream. Whatever. But isn’t it more fun to think of it as… this child is surely his dad’s son?… And I know I’ll miss all this activity perfectly synchronized with my mood and hunger and eating when it’s gone. In a weird way, it’s kind of cute this time that I’m truly being one with my baby.