I’m busying myself with dinner, salivating as I breathe in the delicious aroma of my chicken stir fry, when a sudden kick from within my belly has me clutching the countertop and gasping for air. I manage to keep myself upright while I focus on taking slow breaths. Each inhale seems to compound the pressure in my belly, so I do my best to keep my breaths shallow. I lift my shirt and examine the familiar, prominent veins and bruises that have begun forming across my belly once again. I sigh, lowering my shirt, then rub soothing circles across my belly.
“I’d be kicking too if I were cramped in a tiny sack,” I say sympathetically to the baby.
Taking a composing breath, I push back the pain and continue to work on dinner, doing my best to fight off the fatigue spreading throughout my body. I
