I.P. Freely

Last round, we named the fetus (who was to become our darling son) Shrimpy at first because that's what the drawing in the pregnancy book made him out to look like. A deep-sea dweller with a curved spine and only the bittiest little appendages to speak of.

Then he became Kicky, because that's what he did. Kick. Kick. Kick. I'm here, he said.

I think that in round 2 now I'm going to name the yet-to-be-born one I.P. Freely, because that's what he's been causing me to do. I remember having to go to the bathroom a lot in my last pregnancy but not this much. Also, the increased frequency in urination only lasted through the first few months last time, if I remember correctly. Now I'm in my 4th month and I'm still up two or three times a night. Of course, that might partly have to do with the fact that I get up with the baby so I just head for the toilet on my way back to bed so that I don't have to make the trip later. It might also have to do with the fact that this time around there is someone who tends to sit on or lean againt my stomach on a regular basis.

There is a certain sensation to being roused from sleep by your bladder. You grope your way to the bathroom, sometimes getting the lights on the way in and sometimes not. You spin so that your back is to the toilet seat, which causes more than the anticipated amount of inertia so that your eyes and brain keep going to 270 degrees while your body stops at 180. You aim your butt for the toilet and usually hit it, and then hunker down for the pee, search for the toilet paper through slitted eyes, flush or not if you're saving water, and run your hands under the tap. Then you stagger back to your bed, hoping not to trip on any obstacles planted by your 1-year old, and collapse back in to your bed. This is how the story goes. Trust me.