great thing
is happening. My wife is steadily becoming more rotund.
Granted, it's not that great for her per se -- now that her stomach
is back to normal, her back is starting to bother her -- but it does mean
that the baby is prograssing nicely. She's not yet so big that she
can't stand up or anything -- you still probably wouldn't even know she's
pregnant just by looking at her (especially when she stands next to me,
since my belly has the same -- rotundness.) She has even felt the
first kicks, although I haven't been able to yet. It's just more
proof that my life is about to irrevocably change in more ways than I can
imagine.
All of this got me to thinking.... Doesn't the baby get bored
inside there? It's totally dark all the time, with basically nothing
to see, hear or touch. I told my wife this, and I think she thought
I was crazy. "It doesn't care," she responded. "It doesn't
know anything else." (An aside: I'll be glad when we can stop using
the pronoun "it" to refer to our child. The doctor said that there
is a pretty good chance we'll find out the gender at my wife's next visit.)
But I couldn't shake that thought. I wonder what a baby actually
feels in there. Does it start to recognize voices? Can it actually
hear anything at all? How can you hear anything if you're basically
under water for nine months? Does it realize that there's something
better coming, or does it think that life in a warm, dark belly is all
there is? Does it bump its head when the mother rolls around in her
sleep?
But what's even more amazing is that I used to be in there.
We all were, at one time -- swimming around in a little pitch-black aquarium
of amniotic fluid, without a care in the world. And then, without
our permission, we were shoved into a crazy world of loud (and very large)
people and pain and uncertainty.
No wonder I'm still trying to go home.
