“The history of man for the nine months preceding his birth would, probably, be far more interesting and contain events of greater moment than all the three score and ten years that follow it.” ~Samuel Taylor Coleridge
I’ve been using the phrase ‘teeny tiny’ to describe all things small since returning from Oklahoma City a few weeks ago. You see, the night I arrived my adorable friend Charlie was waiting for me. I went upstairs to my room to be greeted by a half naked six year old who then whisper/hollered to his brother, “HENRY, HEATHER’S HERE!” We sat for a second and discussed school before his mother came up to beat the hell out of all three of us because WHY ARE MY CHILDREN AWAKE AT 9:30 PM?! WHY?? But more importantly WHERE IS MY WINE??? Anyway, earlier that same day, Charlie had found a pencil on the playground and as his mother poured me the largest glass of wine known to man because it seems that my reputation precedes me, she told me that Charlie likes to say that the pencil is ‘teeny tiny’. Not small, not miniature but ‘teeny tiny’. And if you ever met Charlie, you would die every time you hear him say teeny tiny. Well either die or purchase him a pony. When I say it out loud my heart melts a little bit because I totally dig that kid and his genuine excitement over things. Though I generally dig anyone who even remotely enjoys me. Which means that there are approximately 27 people in the world that I really, really dig.
Two weeks ago I went to DC for work and stayed through the weekend for boot shopping and to see my friend Amy. In case you missed it, Amy is having a baby, very, very soon. Amy is the first of my dear friends to have a baby and so the last nine months have been an enlightening experience for me. I am thrilled to my core and knowing how much she has wanted this and the number of bottles of wine we went through while discussing how totally awesome it would be if she like, got knocked up or something; it all leaves me speechless. Like wow, you did it. Not only will you have one child who I find to be one of the sweetest people on the planet but now you are going to give birth to an actual baby. Sometimes I like to email her sweet gems like this: OH MY FUCKING GOD, YOU’RE HAVING A FUCKING BABY!!! In the event that she didn’t get the memo.
We’re sitting at dinner after her (and Tracey and Rita’s) book signing/baby shower and discussing life and how Olives likes to mark up the price of their wine 150% and how there are some wines that I would pay $56.00 to NOT drink and how we’d rather just BYOB next time or go to Komi where it all might be worth it. So we’re sitting when Amy starts to feel the baby kick. Now, a good number of women I hold near and dear to my heart are either with child or have given birth recently. Clearly there is something in their water and if I drink their water one of them will be adopting my child. These are all women who don’t mind a pat on the belly from their close friends but if a stranger were to stop them in the grocery store to touch their stomachs, said offender would sadly be carrying their hands home in a plastic Ziploc, if you catch my drift. Of course after several glasses of wine I was feeling bold and so I felt the baby kick. I then freaked out because OH MY HELL, THERE IS SOMETHING MOVING IN YOUR STOMACH.
He ceased with the kicking and decided to do some squirming. Amy poked him from the right side and he would move something pointy on the left side. His teeny tiny body was moving around and I could feel him. It was like having someone brushing the knuckle of their index finger across the bottom of my palm. His teeny tiny foot or teeny tiny elbow just in there, moving around and hanging out and free loading since he is now a full size child who needs to think about paying rent.
It was quite possibly one of the coolest things I’ve ever felt in my life. I sat back and marveled at the miracle of life, with that lump in my throat and here’s the kicker IT WASN’T EVEN MY BABY.
After awhile we stopped poking the teeny tiny child because A) He was getting bored, B) I needed to finish the wine, and C) Um, HAVE Y’ALL EVER SEEN ALIEN???
18 Comments
Please warn your friend that when the baby gets bigger and starts to run out of room in there, the baby will kick her in the cervix. It feels like a sneak attack pap smear with a hammer.
HAHAAAA! Michelle, that is SO TRUE. Perfect description. And HB? I really miss getting those “OMFG you’re having a BABY!” emails from you. I mean, I had the baby and all, and you’ve met her (and her commuter bus-loving brother) but still. Those were a nice way to start the day.
I felt my baby kick for the first time this morning and indeed, it was THE coolest thing I’ve ever felt in my whole life. Ever. In fact, right now, there’s some shit going on down there like I never, ever would have imagined. There’s a PERSON in there, like MOVING AROUND and stuff. OMFG.
Also, I sidestepped a stranger’s belly touch today. I mean, not a stranger, but a male coworker of Adam’s who should not be touching my belly, you know?
a pap with a hammer!?!?!? I cannot uncross my legs!
When i was brewing kid three, my husband and I decided it would be fun to see how her eyes were developing. So we turned a flashlight on and he stuck it on my stomach. I’ll be damned if she didn’t punch it. So he slid in around. And she followed it, kicking and punching the light.
Yes, just like a cat in the dark.
It was the most awesome thing ever. We kept busy for MONTHS with that game.
I am so trying that game, Mr. Lady!
At regular intervals throughout the day, I have to stop and think about how WEIRD it is that there is an actual HUMAN growing in my belly. I don’t know that I’ll ever get over it.
Random people + Belly touching = SUPER uncomfortable Jen. I really need to master the art of sidestepping like Jonniker.
Uh, Mr. Lady, how far along were you when that game began? Because I’d like to play it, STAT.
Um, I have a collection of like 40 (FINE ASS) wines that need drinking. Just saying…
Alien is a PERFECT example, heh. It can be highly touching, emotional, entertaining and annoying as all holy hell all at the same time.
I personally think that this is to prepare you for what parenting will be like because it’s pretty much entails the same emotions going on at the same time as well.
P.S. I GET TO SEE YOU WHEN I’M BIG AND ROTUND! Awesome!
Delurking (I think) to say YES AMEN HALLELUJAH, I will NEVER forget the first time I felt a (someone else’s) baby kick. It was also the first of my friends to go through it, and I also sat maw-agape with lump in my throat. Like oh….OOOOOHHHHHhhhh, there is a brand new PERSON in there that you’re growing. And it, like, DOES stuff. I get it now.
He is now 2, was recently overheard singing “coocoo cachoo i am a all-rus” and calls me Auntie Clayton. SWOON.
This made me both giggle and say; “Woahhhhhhhh, DOWN ovaries, DOWN!”
My youngest is 2 and there will be no more babies at Casa Barking Mad as we had them lay off all the workers and shut the assembly line down when they were in fetching the little imp. But now that my youngest sister is pregnant, and after reading this, I long to feel those first flutters inside and even the annoying kick in the ribs from time to time…the anticipation of a new teeny tiny life! Oh well, I guess I’m just going to have to head out to So Cal and annoy my lil sis and rub her belly in anticipation of getting my niece to move!
I have never felt that. One, because I have never been pregnant, to my knowledge. And two, I don’t have enough pregnant friends.
Also, I enjoy your company so I’m one of 27 right? RIGHT?
I must say that the whole “I shall now grope your belly” thing started when Catherine was pregnant with Jasper. She would grab my hand to make me feel him move. It was so fucking weird because you know, there’s a person in there moving around and straight up chillin’ like it’s a perfectly acceptable thing for it to be doing. Residing inside of someone else.
HOLY HELL.
I swear my second child was an alien in there. People in meetings at work would stop and stare at me and ask if the baby was kicking because they could SEE it across the room. Quite Alien-like indeed.
When I was your age (you know…because I’m like, 80) I went through a teeny-tiny, OHMYGAH I must eat baby toes phase. Then I got hitched and had my stomach cut open twice to remove said baby toes, and I ate them. Now I’m stuffed full on toes, bellies, and necks, and my brain has sniffed endless amounts of Johnson’s scrubbed hair, and I’m thinking, “Will you grow up already so you can do your own laundry!!”
sneak attack pap smear with a hammer.”"
not only is your post great, but your comments are cracking me up!!
i love the layout of your page, it’s so clean. glad i found you and your words! hi!
i followed the link from slice of pink (i did NOT mean to rhyme there) ..anyways, you said that you would outlaw cooked carrots..and for that..you get my vote! i despise cooked carrots….but i crave them fresh from the ground with dirt still on them.
Way pregnant with my first baby, desperately trying to finish up an Astronomy class at OSU before due date (although the professor had offered to bring the final exam to the hospital if need be
I would become distracted, no, fascinated, with the movement of random body forms from one side of the flip-up desk aaaaallll the way over to the other side of the desk. Really, what’s more interesting? The entire universe way out there, or the teeny tiny universe right there in your tummy?