Is it gas? Am I hungry? None of the above. It's the baby kicking, and making himself known as the master of my uterus. When he is awake, he is AWAKE...kicking and poking. In fact, the only time he's not punching the walls is when the husband puts his freezing cold hands on my stomach and begs for the baby to do something. Even if baby was doing tumbling moves a second before, all is completely calm as soon as husband's calloused hands touch my skin. It's hilariously entertaining for me. Not so much for the husband.
The baby kicking me has brought a whole new dimension to the pregnancy. It's more real now, and I can believe that I may be harboring a human in my body. Weird and amazing.
You would think the fact I'm shaped like a nesting doll would have convinced me earlier.
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