Is there anything more comforting to a mother than the movement of her children? And is there anything more sweeter, from her perspective, than to watch them sleep?
Emery moves; he moves a lot.
I like that; I like that a lot.
Emery is new baby boy growing within. I can't see him, although ultrasound pictures have given us the closest glimpse. I can't hear him, although doppler has provided insight into how strong his little heart is. And I can't touch him, although I can lay a comforting palm on the right side of my growing belly and lovingly pat his bottom.
My hand automatically follows every little movement Little Man makes. He squiggles, and my hand follows. He rolls and my eyes look down. He tickles from within, and a giggle escapes my lips. I love to watch him roll, tumble and move within, because I am his Mommy and I thank God every single day of my life that he's given me the ability to produce life.
(And I say this even as yet another practice contraction takes hold of my growing uterus.)
The fact is that I don't mind any of pregnancy's little inconveniences. And you'll never hear me gripe about the baby's movements. It means he's alive and well within, and if I have a million pregnancies, I will never stop marveling at the joy that is growing within. It's beautiful, miraculous and an absolute wonder of nature.
Each time he moves, I smile.
Blissful, content and loved. That's how I feel as Emery grows within, because I know I've been given no greater gift than to feel those little movements.