Yoga Pants and Cheez-Its

Today is a yoga-pants kind of day. I actually try really hard to get up and get dressed and put on makeup and do my hair every day, even if I don’t plan to go out, because I don’t want to get into bad habits.

Today is not one of those days.

Last night, after my first hip-related wake up at 1am, I went back to bed, and propped myself up into my new sitting position. I had been noticing that baby tends to be very active when I sit up in this position (or, at least, I notice her moving a lot more). But not so much last night.

And then I remembered my OB’s warning about monitoring how often the baby kicks. I thought back over the day, and decided I hadn’t felt her doing any major acrobatics all day.

So I started to get worried, of course. I remembered the doctor’s instructions for getting a kick count. I lay back down on my sore left side and started concentrating on feeling for movement or kicks.

Nada.

Twenty minutes passed and I started to freak out. I started wondering if I had done anything out of the ordinary that day that might have hurt her (Thai food? Mall walking? That single sip of wine at the food tasting for work?????). I remembered the friend of a friend who recently lost her baby at 22 weeks. I started jiggling my belly, trying to wake baby up.

And then I started praying and pleading as one only does at 1:45 in the morning when one hasn’t felt the baby kick in 45 minutes. It was dreadful. I was also in a LOT of pain in my hip by this point, but I was determined not to move from my preferred left side.

And then she kicked. Sort of. I couldn’t be sure. So I counted it as “one maybe.” Then I got to two maybes, then three. Number eight was pretty plainly a kick, so I counted it as “seven maybes and one kick.”

I made it to “nine maybes and a kick” by 2am. Then I decided to get up and have a snack—also one of the doctor’s recommendations for kick counting. I went downstairs and ate a slice of bread with peanut butter and half a glass of milk standing over the sink, shivering in the dark.

By the time I got back to bed, she had the hiccoughs. And then she rolled over. And I nearly cried, I was so happy.

So I’m giving myself the yoga pants today. And the handfuls of Cheez-Its I ate at lunch. This morning I watched my belly undulate and roll as she did a series of contortionist moves and tried to tell myself that she’s OK.