First Rule of Fight Club...

...don't have fight club in Mommy's belly. Please.

So, I've been getting these great little flutters from the baby. Sort of like gas, but it's adorable, because, you know...it's your unborn child and everything. All were greeted with the appropriate response, I grab Matt's hand and we gaze into each other's eyes, swooning with delight at the active little person we've managed to create.

Which brings us to this morning. I wake up at 4:30am, getting the crap beaten out of me from the inside. I'm not seriously begging for this to be a boy, because I'm not sure I can handle a girl child that is holding in that much aggression.

That was nearly 8 hours ago. It hasn't stopped. You know how when your neighbor is doing construction, and it's loud and you want it to stop, and finally it does and right around the time you get comfy again, after ten minutes of perfect silence, they start the saw back up? That's how this feels.

I get it. You're cute. You're alive and happy to be swimming around in my belly. But, if Mommy doesn't get some sleep soon, it won't be pretty for any of us.

Besides that, everything is going super! Pregnancy really is a joy, and all jokes aside, I'm not sure if I would take back this ass kicking for anything. In two more weeks, we get to find out if it is indeed a masculine child, like all the kind strangers at HEB keep insisting, or if it's a girl. I'll keep you guys posted!

(First published: December 20, 2007)

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