Kicking myself

I have an awful confession to make. I haven't really felt attached to baby #2. Maybe it's the endless doctor's appointments that make me feel like an incubator. Or maybe it's because this one wasn't as carefully orchestrated as Jordan was. Or maybe it's because I haven't really had a chance to relish in this pregnancy, instead constantly worrying about everything that could go wrong (and it CAN go wrong. I've lived it).

This weekend, that all changed. It was the first time I felt baby #2 move on the outside. A hard kick to the gut to remind me he's there.

For our 11 year wedding anniversary, I surprised Jon with a trip to Vegas, along with a surprise vow renewal at the Graceland Church by an Elvis impersonator. We had an amazing time in Vegas, eating like royalty and enjoying the shows. It was during Cirque du Soleil's Ka that Baby felt it was time for me to pay attention to him. As drums boomed at the beginning, I felt a kick in response. And then I felt a little foot make its way across my belly. Hi. It's me, your baby.

Then, on the flight home, exhausted from lack of sleep and too much activity, I slumped over in my tiny airplane seat trying to doze off. Baby would have none of it. SLAM -- right against the left side of my belly. Once again, as if saying, "Mom. Move it. Your squishing me."

It made me smile.

So, yes, I finally realized that there's a baby in there. And he's mine. It's hard to explain, even harder to comprehend.

Something else came out of this trip -- a name. And it came in the form of the Elvis impersonator/minister that renewed our vows. As we were leaving the chapel, I looked down to the certificate and saw his real name printed on it. My eyes got big and I told Jon, "Hey. What about X?" We looked at each other and just knew. That was it. What's the name? You'll have to wait to find out. That's one surprise we plan to reveal in September.