There is a living thing inside me

and it is a feeling I will never get used to.
Sitting at my desk responding to a never-ending stream of emails, and the little guy inside me is practicing tae kwon do moves. Right hand strikes and snap kicks to the uterus.
It's not painful, but it's just weird. And constant.
He's getting bigger and stronger.
I can feel the extra weight when I walk. Not quite a waddle. Yet.
Today I looked like I stuffed a cantaloupe under my dress.
Things annoyed me today:
Students unhappy with their C papers.
Girl, it was a C paper. Take responsibility for it.
Unending hammering outside. All last week, too.
And I like to work at work and relax at home, but when I can't concentrate at work because of incessant hammering...
So, I walked home earlier than usual.
And my feet are swollen. I have cankles.
When I bound upstairs or even just flex my toes, I can literally feel the fluid in my feet.
Getting up from a seated position is no longer the fluid motion it used to be.
It's an old-lady, creaky getting up. Gotta hold on to something, push off of something, steady myself while getting up.
I want freshly baked French bread dipped in olive oil. PF Chang's crispy honey shrimp. Cheese fries. Warm chocolate chip cookies with a tall, cold glass of milk. They are not "cravings." I don't believe in cravings. They are things I already like that I just happen to want.
I think over 50% of pregnancy is an old wives tale. "If you carry high, it's a girl, if you carry low, it's a boy." "If you crave salty foods, it's a boy, if you crave sweet foods, it's a girl." "If you have heartburn, that means your baby is going to have a lot of hair." Get outta here.
I'm already a skeptic, and for whatever reason, pregnancy is just making me want to side eye things (and people) more than usual.
Or cry.
This morning I cried before going to work because I was sad that having a baby would mean that my husband and I would have no more relaxing weekends like the one we just had.
Don't worry about that honey. It'll be okay.
What is our son going to look like? What is he going to be like? How much of who he is will be up to me (okay, us), and how much will be up to the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune?
What does it mean to create something that is part of you?
Is that just a slice of what God feels like?
There is a living thing inside me.
And it will never be normal.