You know when you’re convinced that your kid is actually practicing piledrivers in utero and that they might decide to pop through your chest Alien-style? Yeah. Me too.
Don’t get me wrong. The activity —the sheer thrill of feeling a living child that you’ve been nurturing shift even slightly within you? Exhilarating. It’s just that sometimes I wish I had a clue of what was going on in there. Just one. Because right this second I’m pretty sure it’s the Harlem Shake. Just saying…

29 weeks ago this happened.

Now, it’s the middle of a phone call with a client and I’ll feel a foot in my ribcage and one on my bladder and I’m pretty sure kid Vader is training for a Kumite.

Then just when I’m getting to sleep this happens.

And by the time I DO fall asleep I’m so delirious I end up having dreams like this.

Which makes me feel like this in the morning.

Which is awesome because the minute I could actually use a few kicks to stay awake, I get—

But as soon as I lie down to rest, freaking LIU KANG.

And if I do manage to have a nap through the whole bicycle kick barrage, I end up having weird food porn craving dreams. Because, pregnant.

It’s ok though. Because I know that I’ll only sleep for 2 minutes before the next…

Which explains why I am now supplementing my sleep deprivation with a stead stream of food.

But hey. It’s worth it. Especially because baby and I seem to agree that after I stuff myself, we both sleep.

Which is something I hope we do together for many years to come.