Kicking Me From Both Sides

The first time I felt her kicking I was lying in a hammock with her brother on a Saturday afternoon, trying to find a comfortable position. I have this photo to remind me of that beautiful moment....just the three of us:


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I don't remember how far along I was the first time I felt Grayson kicking but I feel like it was much later than this, or perhaps he had been kicking me for a while and I just assumed it was gas. The second pregnancy you kind of just know more.....I think.


With Grayson, my pregnancy was very slow and a bit scary. Every little pain sent me rushing to the phone to call my O.B. or my best friend. "Is this normal??? What about this? And this??" I kept wanting to rush to the very end so that I could see his sweet little face, and toes, and hands. I wrote Grayson letters, asked him questions, played him music, could not imagine his face or how it would feel to hold him in my arms, to watch him grow from tiny dancer to human being. (I have questions for her, too, of course, but this time, they do not come from a place of fear.)


This time, I'm not scared and it's flying by way too quickly. This is the last time I will ever feel these feelings, the nausea, the kicks, the incredible feeling to know that there is a life growing inside me. How incredible. So, I have enjoyed them all and tried so very hard to live in each moment, each day. I have a close community of friends, who are mothers, I turn to, reading their words, relating, feeling support from. I have more than a vague idea of what I'm going to experience the moment I meet my new baby for the first time...


...So clearly I remember the moment Grayson emerged, so small and so beautiful. So perfect. Shock and awe.

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Awe that grew more and more punch-drunk through the weeks, months, years that followed.

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Fall: 2007.

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And now, two and a half years later, never have I been more in awe of him or anyone.

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There's something very special about this pregnancy. Something I wasn't prepared for-- the double whammy of feeling the kicks of my unborn baby at the same time I'm wrestling with the one who was. Grayson will always be my "baby" of course but he's a big kid, now. Old enough to pick out his shoes in the morning.
Photo Sharing - Video Sharing - Photo Printing Old enough to tell me "I'm being mean" when I tell him to put on his shoes before he goes outside. Old enough to ride the horsey ride at Hacienda all alone.


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The other night, my mom stayed with us, so we let Grayson sleep in our bed, sleep between us, like he did in his infancy, on a pillow between Kev and me, his little hands wrapped around my seemingly enormous fingers.


"Cu-doh me, Mommy," Grayson said.


He turned his back to my chest and pulled my arm over his waist like a seat belt. And we lied like that until morning, the two of us as close as we could possibly be and yet... separate. Meanwhile, the baby was kicking me from inside, dragging her feet, poking a knee against my abdomen as Grayson squirmed in my arms.


Such moments produce feelings I will never experience again: holding such loved life in my arms and my body, Gray's hands pulling on mine on the outside, as foot-taps on the inside become familiar.


I'm getting to know you by the way you move inside me.



Week twenty-three

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Clearly I am most excited about this pregnancy because of Grayson.
Photo Sharing - Video Sharing - Photo Printing Because he was once kicking the same walls she is. And now, two and a half years later I have this perfect little person by my side, bouncing in my lap, rocking my world, loving me back, which can only mean that very soon, she will be too. And preparing to fall in love all over again?



Love on horseback.


I can't begin to imagine something better in all of life.