Sam was fairly skeptical at first that Skipper was doing as much moving and kicking as I claimed. Now, he's a sweet man, and knew better than to actually say that to me, but considering the number of times our OB/GYN told us that anything I was feeling was "most likely just gas," I can't really blame him.
I'm fairly lucky in that my week count for how far along I am rolls over each Monday. This makes keeping track of how far along I am much, much easier. It also means that it's pretty easy for me to remember to check in with a few of my favorite sites to learn what's going on with Skipper that week. That particular week Skipper was able to start hearing what was going on outside of the womb. The noise had to be pretty loud, but she could react to it.
So my beloved husband took to humming or singing or talking to my stomach at random moments. (I told you he's a sweet man.) The third or fourth night after he decided to do this, I complained that she was awfully restless. Trying to be cute, he opted to sing "Fly Me to the Moon" to Skipper to "try and settle her down." Just as he's reaching the final verse, I feel this very strong kick--the kind of kick that if you're watching my stomach you can actually see the skin pop up.
It just happened to be right where Sam's mouth was.
Needless to say, he believed me after that whenever I told him Skipper was kicking me.
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