Two or maybe three weeks ago, Monk and I were laying in bed, talking. He had his head laying on my stomach and the baby suddenly kicked him right in the ear. It was the first time that he was able to feel the baby - any of our babies - move. He jumped up, surprise apparent on his face and then immediately laid back down and waited. After the second kick, I watched the amazement cross his face. I wasn't entirely sure that I would be allowed to move without his head attached to my abdomen for the rest of my pregnancy. It was more heart-warming than I could ever describe or explain. For all of his "meh" type attitude about the previous pregnancies and losses, feeling the movement sold it for him. And for me, I think I realized that he was more hurt by the losses than he had let on, that he was feeling more nervous and reserved about this pregnancy than I could ever have guessed. It took two kicks and he was suddenly running around town buying baby clothes and paint for the nursery. Two. Kicks.
We've spent the better part of the last several weeks discussing names and we've gotten nowhere really fast. He's referred to the baby as "Emmet" since conception. He has wanted to name a baby Emmet for as long as I've known him. I have no affection for the name, and definitely dislike the idea of naming a baby after a football player. So ..umm...I conceded several years ago and let him name a fish Emmet. So anyway. He's suggested all sorts of names that I hate ..and I've suggested several more that he can't stand. We'll probably leave the hospital with a blank birth certificate - seriously. That's how far apart we are.
Tonight, we started discussing names again. Monk started talking to the baby who appeared to be in a deep sleep as far as I could tell. The conversation went something like this:
"Baby? We need to talk about your name. You can help us pick your name. I want you to kick mama when you hear a name that you like. Okay? Any name that you like ...you kick mama. Okay. Ready?? Gavin? Noah? Elijiah? Jonah? Kaeden? Liam?" And the baby? Said nothing. He went through another 15 or 20 names and eventually came to "Emmet?" And the baby? Said, "Kick. Kick. Kick. Kick."
Monk was incredibly elated. Even I thought it was hilarious. For like two minutes. Then I was forced to point out to Monk that babies want lots of things that aren't good for them and don't have the best judgement.