Sometimes mornings really are the greatest time of day. Even on a Monday. Usually, my weekend mornings are best, and then, if I’ve had a not-too-horrible weekend, the early week sometimes carries some optimism. The mid-week mornings are probably the worst, getting a little bit better on say, a Friday.

I have never been a morning person, though, and frankly, I don’t know how people can do it every day. Even when I’m up a couple hours before the alarm, there is usually nothing that I’d rather do at that hour of the day than roll over and go back to sleep. After returning from a brief visit to the bathroom, of course.

Today, as both of our alarms took turns trying to rouse us for work, and we snoozed and snuggled, James put his hand on my belly in attempt to find a comfortable position. He moved it away after a short moment because it wasn’t as comfortable as he’d hoped. But as soon as his hand wasn’t there anymore, I felt a bump. A few seconds later, another. Followed by another.

I said, “Put your hand back where it was.” And there it came again. “Did you feel it?” I asked. He said, “Wow.” And his smile. There are no words. This was the first time that he’s been able to feel anything. Usually when his hand is there, I can’t even feel any movement. When his hand isn’t there and I start to feel something moving, by that point it’s already over. It was good timing today, and James is absolutely thrilled.

I could tell the movement was getting stronger. It’s a different kind of movement than when it first started, when I wasn’t sure that was what I was feeling. Now, it’s definite and distinct. Over the weekend, there was a time or two when I thought I could feel it from the outside, myself, but it was hard to say for sure, since I knew what was happening in there. I didn’t know if someone else would be able to tell. But in those quite moments of a good Monday morning and the promise of a bright new week ahead, there was no better way to find out.


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