Baby and I got in a fight this week. It had to do with Baby feeling like squishing down as low and possible, feet first, was the best place for him/her to be living and me vehemently disagreeing due to the extreme discomfort. At first, I thought, okay, that's fine, the baby will move eventually. But NO. This baby clearly belongs to Joe and I because my entire pregnancy all it has wanted to do is smush itself into as small of a space as possible and curl up. Apparently s/he was very cozy wedged down in the lowest regions of its home and had no intention of switching things up. It was day two of this, when Baby started gleefully dancing on my bladder and other sensitive areas that I decided to fight back. I pushed at those little feet and legs of doom, not hard, but firmly. Baby responded with some more kicking. But I said, no, pumpkin, no. The time has come, you need to move. PUSH!
And Baby obeyed. Or got mad at the oppressive mystery pressure and slunk away from it. I woke up this morning with a whole new feeling from Baby. Pretty sure s/he executed a full turn last night and now has her/his feet toward my back and his/her little back and butt pressing out into my stomach. It makes for very different feeling kicks. Instead of sharp little smacks popping out bits of my belly, everything just shakes a bit as Baby pummels my back. You'd think this would be worse, but it's actually much more comfortable because I've got the placenta for padding back there.
Thanks for the respite from your beloved, but tiring, physical onslaught of my insides. It's much appreciated. Now, tonight, let's rest quietly between the hours of 2-6 AM so Mommy can sleep. We'll get to spend plenty of the wee hours of the night together soon enough.
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