A couple of nights ago I figured we'd try to see if Daddy could feel the baby moving in my belly. I've really wondered how long it would take because I'm overweight and it's our first so we had no idea, but the baby has been getting a few good kicks in everyday so I figured it was worth a try.
So we laid down in bed, I was on my back and had Dale's hand on my belly. I could feel the baby lightly moving around in my belly but Dale wasn't saying anything, so I figured he couldn't feel anything yet. We waited about 5 or 10 minutes and suddenly the baby popped a good hard one right on Dale's ring and pinky fingers! I was so excited! Did you feel that? "Oh yeah, that's cool" he says. Then he says "Before the baby kicked, I could feel those farts moving around in there!" I said "Dale, those weren't farts" and he says "Yeah, I know the last one was the baby kicking, but before that, I could feel farts moving around in your stomach up by my thumb and index finger."
Hehe
His thumb was even with my belly button, a good two inches below my displaced tummy!
I let him know it was the baby moving the entire time -- then he said "Yeah - Yeah, that's exactly what I said, I could feel that little fart moving around in there!"
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
Rainy Days
We are in the midst of a serious drought here in Central Texas. 18 months with very little rain, I've read that it's the dryest 18 month period in recorded weather history. In fact, we'd been so long without rain that when it finally started raining two nights ago, both me and my hubby were tossing and turning all night because of the strange noise outside. This is especially funny for me - I grew up in Tennessee where it rained frequently and I like to think that rain lulls me to sleep. Apparently not anymore. But I'll get my groove back.
I love the rain. When I was a little girl, my dad and I would stand on the back porch and hold hands, watching the rain and the lightening together. I always felt like rainy days were our special place. When I was a teenager, sometimes I would crawl through my bedroom window and sit on the roof of the porch to watch the storms. Other times I'd stay hand-in-hand with my Dad on the porch downstairs.
My Dad died one month after my nineteenth birthday. I know that all people lose their parents at some point in their life, but losing my dad has been the most tragic part of my 30 years of life. I should be grateful for that, I guess. I never had grandparents though (my longest living grandparent, Grandma Dove, died when I was barely 3), and my Dad was especially important to me. He was much older, 47 when I was born, and was much like a grandparent most of my life (except for spankings with the belt!) He was retired for most of my life, retired from multiple jobs and working odd jobs to make a few more dollars on the side. He was my basketball coach, he attended every one of my softball games, he took me and all my friends to all of our volleyball games. I "home-schooled" my 8th grade year. I put that in quotes because actually, I spent the year with my Dad, doing whatever we did. Gardening, travelling, having fun. We were very close. We hiked the woods, told jokes, played cards and generally just enjoyed each others' company. It didn't effect my grades any, I came to high school as a freshman in all advanced classes and I graduated with distinguished honors.
The day we buried my dad, the wind blew strong and knocked over all the flowers at his graveside. Clouds rolled in and darkened during the graveside service, and gentle rain fell from above. My mom told me it upset her, to get rain at Daddy's funeral. I told her it was perfect, it was my Dad saying hello, wrapping us in a hug, letting us know we'd be OK and he wasn't gone.
The same thing happened the day I married my husband. We got married on the banks of the Guadalupe River, and as we turned around, together, to walk back down the aisle, I noticed huge dark rainclouds over the top of us. We'd had some decent rain earlier in the day, and we only got a few drops after the ceremony, thankfully, but I felt like it was my Dad telling me he was there and walking me down the aisle to my husband. There was a huge rainbow in the sky that evening.
We're expecting our first child in early August. I keep telling Dale that I expect there to be the most amazing thunderstorm when we deliver. He wouldn't miss it for the world.
I love the rain. When I was a little girl, my dad and I would stand on the back porch and hold hands, watching the rain and the lightening together. I always felt like rainy days were our special place. When I was a teenager, sometimes I would crawl through my bedroom window and sit on the roof of the porch to watch the storms. Other times I'd stay hand-in-hand with my Dad on the porch downstairs.
My Dad died one month after my nineteenth birthday. I know that all people lose their parents at some point in their life, but losing my dad has been the most tragic part of my 30 years of life. I should be grateful for that, I guess. I never had grandparents though (my longest living grandparent, Grandma Dove, died when I was barely 3), and my Dad was especially important to me. He was much older, 47 when I was born, and was much like a grandparent most of my life (except for spankings with the belt!) He was retired for most of my life, retired from multiple jobs and working odd jobs to make a few more dollars on the side. He was my basketball coach, he attended every one of my softball games, he took me and all my friends to all of our volleyball games. I "home-schooled" my 8th grade year. I put that in quotes because actually, I spent the year with my Dad, doing whatever we did. Gardening, travelling, having fun. We were very close. We hiked the woods, told jokes, played cards and generally just enjoyed each others' company. It didn't effect my grades any, I came to high school as a freshman in all advanced classes and I graduated with distinguished honors.
The day we buried my dad, the wind blew strong and knocked over all the flowers at his graveside. Clouds rolled in and darkened during the graveside service, and gentle rain fell from above. My mom told me it upset her, to get rain at Daddy's funeral. I told her it was perfect, it was my Dad saying hello, wrapping us in a hug, letting us know we'd be OK and he wasn't gone.
The same thing happened the day I married my husband. We got married on the banks of the Guadalupe River, and as we turned around, together, to walk back down the aisle, I noticed huge dark rainclouds over the top of us. We'd had some decent rain earlier in the day, and we only got a few drops after the ceremony, thankfully, but I felt like it was my Dad telling me he was there and walking me down the aisle to my husband. There was a huge rainbow in the sky that evening.
We're expecting our first child in early August. I keep telling Dale that I expect there to be the most amazing thunderstorm when we deliver. He wouldn't miss it for the world.
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