Here we are in the third trimester, the final stage of the pregnancy journey before the Big Moment, when Stanley and I get to meet face to face. So that's what you look like, I'll get to think. Hey! Where'd my world go?? And what's this thing holding me?? Stanley will wonder.
Stanley's definitely getting used to his/her world in there. Stanley's movements have gotten a lot more coordinated, and I'm pretty sure the little devil is using this newfound talent to rock his/her world. Literally. A good sharp kick in the ribs is sure to shock anybody, and when it comes from the inside at unexpected moments, the resulting earthquake must be quite a ride.
I have a small mischevious streak, and my mother claims that I jumped up and down on her bladder on purpose. Mischeviousness may well be genetic, which may account for these sudden, purposeful jabs.
In any case the rumblings and rollings and sudden right-left jabs are getting much more noticeable in an Alien kind of way, so much so that I have to be careful not to lay a full glass on what's left of the flat of my stomach or it may get spilled with one powerful acrobatic twist on Stanley's part. And we're only at the beginning of this final, fun trimester.
Can I claim being battered from the inside as some sort of insidious domestic abuse? Or is this what my mother meant when she said, a gleam in her eye: just you wait? Does all this activity indicate a wild child? Or is Stanley just getting it all out of the way now so s/he'll be a model of angelic sweetness the rest of his/her life?
Only time will tell; we're only ten weeks away. Only ten weeks, a veritable eternity of constant Stanley activity. Oh well. At least we know Stanley's still in there.
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