Bladder Bouncing & Head Crushing

According to friends who have already had children, this baby seems to be an extra active one and two days ago was the Discovery of the Bladder Trampoline. On top of making me go to the bathroom 30 times a day for the last few months, now my baby has discovered the joys of jumping on it. My mother keeps telling me this is the best month of the pregnancy and things will only get worse. So far, it’s been fun. I’m enjoying all the barfiness and exhaustion and stretching and itching, because when I feel the baby bouncing and squirming, it’s all worth it.

In the last week or so, I think I’m starting to see some personality. Apparently, it doesn’t like me sneezing. Even when it’s sleeping or keeping completely still, if I sneeze, then a second later I get bonks all over from a flurry of furious little fists and feet fighting back, and then all is still again. It seems to be getting pretty used to all the noise, though. In America, I’m home alone most days while Ben is at work and I sing a bit and read outloud, but it’s pretty quiet all the time. Here in Tokyo, there is constant talking and yelling and laughing and with my family’s weird and eclectic taste, music of all sorts playing at all times of the day and night, symphonic, choral, church music, pop, rap, Japanese country, oldies, parodies, etc.

(It’s OK to refer to babies as “it” if you don’t know whether it’s a boy or a girl yet. All those baby announcements call babies “it” anyway. “It’s a boy!” … “It’s a girl.”)

It’s been strange seeing my parents becoming grandparents before the baby is even born. They’re really cute about it and it makes me feel weird because I’ve never thought of my own parents as cute. When I first told my father we were having a baby, I could hear his voice choking with tears of joy, and I’ve never seen him get all excited about baby carriers before. Theology and beer and computers, yes. Baby accessories, no. When I go out with my mother, it’s hard to tear her away from baby clothes and bibs and toys. Theology and books and music, yes. But baby rattles?! I’ve never seen them quite like this.

My brothers are talking about it, too. Both Ben and Berek want a niece but are careful to refer to it as “niece or nephew.” Berek talks about being a monkle (monk + uncle), whatever that means, and we had fun at Baby Gap, even though we didn’t buy anything.

My husband Ben somehow knows we’re having a boy and always talks about the baby using masculine pronouns, so it cracks me up that he is more excited about the next ultrasound than I am … ’cause that is the ultrasound that is supposed to tell us whether it’s a boy or not.

This baby isn’t even born yet and is already getting a ton of attention.

I saw a a little tot getting spanked a few days ago. He needed it badly, but I could see his mother in agony, crying inside as she spanked her beautiful son. It hurt her so much more than it hurt him, and the little bratty sinner has no idea. I hope I can be as brave as she is.

Almost everyone around me is more ready to have this baby than I am. Labour freaks me out beyond all reason, but let’s not get started on that…. I tell myself that having babies is warfare and those stretch marks are war wounds, badges of honour. So far, this baby seems to be gaining ample experience hardening its heels for future head-crushings. Fun stuff!!