You may recall that, at my last check up, a wonderful nurse told me I could drop by any time to hear baby's heartbeat. Today I happened to be in the neighborhood, and by that I mean I called ahead and made a special trip to the clinic which is about 45 minutes away.
I had no particular reason to be worried but I wanted a little reassurance. Scooter's heartbeat is as strong as ever and the nurse was impressed with the amount of scooting going on in there. She assured me that I probably am feeling the baby move and dismissing it as gas. "If it doesn't come out," and here she did the cutest pantomime of farting I've ever seen, "then you're feeling the baby!"
She was so nice. More crying, of course. We already have pie at home from the pie auction at church, so I upheld the tradition and helped myself to a good slice when I got home.
Then Hank and I took a nap on the couch in the warm afternoon sun. I woke up, sat up awkwardly, drank some water and YELP! Hank raised his ears and his eyebrows, alarmed. We sat in tense silence. Finally, I said the only thing one can say in such a moment: "Scooter, was that you?"
From the way it felt, I can only guess that Scooter did a forward roll into my bladder, simultaneously kicking as hard as a baby can kick. We are speculating that this is the baby's way of saying "No more random dopplers, Mom. Trust me. I'm in here."