I think we have an athlete on our hands. Apparently the baby is extremely active. We don't know if he's more or less active than normal, but Mary can feel him moving around in there hourly. I've been able to feel him punching and kicking, too. According to Mary, it can be distracting. And surprising.
We read somewhere that the baby has been capable of sensing light and sound for a long time now, and that lower pitched tones are more audible inside the womb than higher ones. So my melodious baritone voice, especially when applied directly to the abdomen, should get through loud and clear.
So what did I say to him, after Mary was taken by surprise by a sudden acrobatic gyration a couple of weeks ago?
"Um... stop flippin' around in there, you crazy kid!"
My very first words to this child were to STOP doing something? I didn't even mean it. Where did it come from? Is this an instinct? Is it learned? Certainly my dad spent a lot of time telling me to stop doing this, or to do this instead, or settle down, or do something different. Is this the parental legacy I've been left!? Essentially, the best I can do is "hey, quit it!".
Since then I've been more careful with what I say. I want to be sure I don't say anything negative, or at least nothing unnecessarily negative, and of course there's no need for negativity while he's still in utero. Don't worry, I'm not new-age enough to believe the fetus can understand, or pick up on my energy or whatever... I don't avoid negatively for the kid's sake, but rather as practice for myself.
So there I am, faced with a captive audience. I'm armed with a voice, and Mary patiently waiting for me to speak wisdom. I realize I have nothing interesting to say. No wisdom, no advice. Just "hello in there" and the like. It's a rare thing that a child goes to a parent for words of advice. Perhaps even more unusual that the parent has something meaningful to say. Hope I'm ready when/if the time comes, because I'm clearly not ready now.
No comments:
Post a Comment