Friday, Apr. 23, 2004 6:21 pm
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When I was pregnant the first time, I was alone. I had no one. I was seventeen, a senior in high school, my boyfriend at the time (the witchling's biological father) had dumped me, my grandparents had kicked me out, and I was living in a teen parent home. I had to move and switch schools in my senior year and I had no friends. No family around me. For the first time in my life I was completely on my own.
It was scary.
My mom would come by now and then, but the majority of the time I was by myself. All my hurts, all my hopes, all my fears, all the special little moments that occur during pregnancy: the day I heard her heartbeat, the day I found out "it" was "she", the day I first felt her move, were witnessed by no one but me.
I can remember studying for exams in my room late at night, with one hand on my belly, feeling her kick. And I wished, so hard, that I could share it with someone. I wished that nearly every day I was pregnant with her.
Now I am pregnant again, seven years later, and this time the circumstances are very different. I have a loving husband, and he shares it all with me. He goes to every doctor visit, even routine check ups. He has been to every ultra sound appointment. He was there to hear the heartbeats, he was there when we discovered that we are having a boy. And I am so happy about that, its wonderful.
I have been waiting and waiting for the time when he could feel the baby kick. Because although I can feel every movement, no matter how small, on the inside I have been anxiously waiting for the moment they could be felt on the outside. At night, before I fall asleep, I lay my hands on my belly and wait to feel anything. For weeks I have been doing this, excited, and hoping, so that James could share that feeling with me.
Last night, the baby was kicking me hard. He was rolling, and punching and kicking. And when I touched my belly, it was easily felt through my skin. So I quickly grabbed James' hand, and placed it over the spot, and held it there. This was what I had been waiting for!
He felt one tiny kick and took his hand off.
That was it.
There was no excitement. There was no moment. And it hurt. He didn't know how long I had been waiting for that I guess. I was so very disappointed. I got up, went to the bathroom and then went to bed. It still hurts now. I had been waiting for him to be able to feel our baby for weeks, and it was such a disappointment that it didn't mean as much to him as it did me.
Maybe that's silly of me, to feel that way, after he has been so supportive of me in everything else.
But I just wanted to have that one little moment I never had before.
Things you can only learn from movies and television...
If I see one more little winky...
Currently Reading: Born in Fire, by Nora Roberts
Listening To: long black skirt, black t-shirt
To Do List: I wasn't so sensitive (hormones)