For the past couple days, Archimedes has seemed to be constantly on the move. One minute, our little karate kid is kicking my left ribs, the next minute my right. Watching my stomach is increasingly reminiscent of watching the earth quake: the globe that is my abdomen undulates in random patterns, almost without pause, under the pressure of Archie's flaying knees and feet. I sometimes wonder if our baby ever sleeps.
Yesterday, Archie's movements were so distinct and so close to the surface that Bryan and I were able to map out a tiny baby body just by touch. Head down. Back pressed against my right side. Legs kneeling. Feet tucked up near my right ribs. Then the sudden growth of my left half, accompanied by deflation of the right and a tickle under my left ribs, indicated that Archie had flipped into a mirror position.
These reminders that there is a real, live human being in there--with a solid, if miniature, body--continue to feel surreal. Just like those first movements once surprised and amazed us, now the feel of a bony foot pressed against our fingertips brings us that much closer to the reality-to-be.
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