I took a break from my adoring Guitar Hero fans to head to the living room and watch Notes from the Underbelly with Meg. The timing of that show debuting couldn’t be any better, and we find ourselves looking at each other realizing we’ve had many of the conversations that take place on the show. In particular, last night Meg was nodding profusely as one of the characters related the benefits of being a non-working mother.
I wasn’t surprised to find the Pregnasaur grazing on her latest prey: Snickers ice cream. I’ve become accustomed to seeing her walled up on the couch with a perpetual stream of food amidst a sea of baby books and magazines. What I wasn’t expecting was to find she had pulled up her shirt to rest atop of her now exposed 30 week pregnant belly.
To be honest, I was more surprised that she can eat with her stomach visible in plain sight. She, like many other women, has found that her once recessed belly button has decided to pop out. I can only theorize that the purpose of this is to determine that if her belly button sees its shadow, the baby has another six weeks of pregnancy. I mention this atrocity because the sight of it wigs me out something fierce, and among other reactions, I lose my appetite. Meg has since learned to use this as a consistent mechanism to add to her food supply by offering to finish what I may have been eating at the time.
As if that wasn’t enough, she has also developed a dark brown line that extends from roughly her sternum to the abomination that is her belly button. There’s a second, parallel but disconnected, line that continues from her meat-thermometer belly button down a few inches. Since the doctor was unable to provide me a real explanation for the phenomenon, I’ve come up with my own theory: Once the baby is ready to be born, an arrow head will appear at the bottom of the line to direct the baby on which way to go. I’m still deciding through which university I want to publish my findings and receive my medical degree.
Apparently, Meg did have a motive that did not center around causing me to wince at the very sight of her. The baby was kicking.
Actually, kicking isn’t the right word anymore. I’m not sure it was ever the right word, since we could never be sure it was a foot causing the visible stomach spasms. Whatever the case, we’re past the stage of simple kicks. Now, we can flat out see movement.
The best way to describe it is to think back to Bugs Bunny cartoons. Remember when Bugs would dig underground and travel to… wherever it was he was going. On the surface, you would just see a lump in the ground above Bugs’ position.
That’s what Meg was looking at when I came upstairs. Every so often, a bump would appear, breaking the symmetrical roundness of her belly. The bump would then move across her stomach and eventually disappear again. We’re not sure if it’s a foot, elbow, or ass, but something in there is running out of room. Meg finds it magical. I think it’s downright creepy, and now wonder if choosing some form of underground burrowing rodent would have made for a more accurate animal imagery of the baby.
And no, we’re not considering “Phil Dobies” as a possibility, despite the obvious reference.