At night before bed, I reach over and put my hand on her stomach. I feel the kicks, the swirls, and sometimes I let him kick me in the temple as I try to listen for his heartbeat. I can hear it. When he sits still. I’ll let you guess how often that is.
Vegas gets the hiccups. A lot. No, really. When’s the last time you took a breath? Well that’s the last time he had the hiccups. For at least a month, D has been grabbing my wrist and trying to plug me into the hiccups. I think she’s doing this less because she wants me to share in the miracle of life and more because my touch seems to quell the more exuberant tantrums. But only recently have I actually been able to feel the hiccups. Now can see why she sighs when she says, “He has the hiccups. Again.”
So it was only a matter of time before this happened:
D: Feel! Hiccups.
M: Oh! I feel them. Hey, Vegas. flick flick. (Yes, I flick the baby. It’s our special greeting. Don’t make that face. I’ll flick you.)
M: Listens for several dedicated minutes. Then turns the light out and settles in to sleep.
Wait for it.
D: MUST BE NICE TO BE ABLE TO GET AWAY.
You knew it was coming. What do you say to that? I’ll tell you. You don’t say anything. Anything except, I love you.