Dennis, Rascal, or Lucifer?

I think after nearly 7.5 months with a nameless child meandering through my belly we have narrowed down the options for names....and they are all very fitting. The process began nearly 72 hours ago but ended easily this morning. Friday we met a couple friend of ours for what other's are claiming as"Atlanta's Best Burger." The verdict is still out but it was pretty dang good but we'll save my reviews for another post. Needless, after we got home I was a bad mama. I ate nearly a whole log of homemade cookie dough that I made for Charlsie's arrival (she was staying with me on her way to New Orleans). The calories and gobs of fat aren't the problem - it's the raw eggs that our 30 week old still forming child didn't seem to like. From that point on baby decided he wasn't going to talk to me.

We wake up Saturday and I head to the gym for some kickboxing. Baby usually loves kickboxing! He even keeps kicking after I have stopped and he typically doesn't let up. Not this Saturday. He was still hungover from the sugar I guess so he still didn't budge all day Saturday. Now, I was busy and working so I wasn't too alarmed. Maybe I just didn't notice him throughout the day?? Well, Brad takes me out Saturday night for a nice dinner complete with appetizer and the perfect piano bar. We both thought baby would like some fish because he hadn't had any in awhile so I order salmon. I only finished half the dinner because I was a little hesitant that the salmon was still swimming and I surely didn't think baby would like that. So now it is Sunday am and baby still hasn't even elbowed me or made any slight movement in 36 hours. We headed to church and I just knew he would start dancing around because that is when he normally likes to shake it....right in the middle of a 35 minute sermon. A quick jab to the ribs is his favorite move on a Sunday morn. The music was especially loud this morning which I thought would have had our little rhythmic baby bouncing but still - nothing. Brad said the music was just too much for him this morning and he was just scared. Anyway, Sunday continues and I poke my abdomen where I think his little head is.....I even push my entire belly to one side and nothing. I mean, not even a twinkle of the toes. By Sunday night I am noticeably alarmed so Brad steps in and tries to push on baby from all angles. I call my soon to be MD (yay, Matt!) brother and my dearest doctor friend and ask for any tricks of the trade. Brother MD says there is probably nothing wrong but I should call my doctor in the am. My dearest doctor friend in Charleston says I should lay on my tummy and just make the little booger mad.

So I do everything I know how to do. I lay on my belly. I eat way too much sugar. I massage my belly and yes, at one point for maybe 4 minutes I tried to relax and not think about the fact that the thing that has been causing such a ruckus in there the last month hasn't even winced in the last 48 hours. No worries, right? I figure once I get to bed he'll start tossing and turning like he usually does.

I don't like doctors. Though two of my favorite people are doctors I still don't like them. I always feel like I am in the way because I tend to be seeing a doctor for problems that don't seem to be problems to them. I know there are people with real conditions out there and I just hate to waste their time. Needless to say, when I woke up this rainy Monday morning and realized baby hadn't awakened me with his dance moves during the night I did begin to worry. I pretended to be calm and lay on my side for an hour to try to count his movements but after 50 minutes with no signs I started to fall apart. I fake-calmly called the doctor and they asked for me to come in right away. Brad and I both begin to pray all morning for our sweet little baby that didn't seem to be very happy as of late. And admittedly, I was really worried. But I also didn't want to be "that lady" in the Ob/GYN office. You know the overactive one that you watch out of the corner of your eye as she acts like the only female to ever had had a child in her? There is always one in the waiting room when I am there and I didn't want to be that one. So, I sit. I read. I write a few cards and inside I panic. And what do you know.....I get hit with an uppercut to the ribs. Ouch, baby! Within a quarter of a second my fear turns to humiliation as the nurse calls my name and my unborn baby's footprint is noticeable in my side.

The staff treats my with extra care as they all know that I haven't felt the little menace move in a few days....like they were awaiting the dreaded news. I had mentioned the 1/2 bowl of raw cookie dough and the half cooked salmon and they gave me half smiles telling me everything should be fine. I told them my entire routine over the last few days. They proceed in giving the baby a stress test. At the mention of this I get a roundhouse kick to my left side and I just smile as the nurse hooks me up....thinking "yes, baby, you are in trouble....you are going to be stressed when I get a hold of you!"

Sure enough - she hooks me up and leaves the room and says she will return in 20 minutes and before she could get the door shut our precious little angel kicks my belly so hard that the apparatus falls off of my stomach. Are you kidding me? This kid is going to breathe his first breath and be sent straight to timeout! I am not kidding. I am growing furious at this little stunt. He hasn't moved an inch in 3 days and the moment I get to the doctor he throws a party in the womb! The nurse and doctor come back in and assure me that they think everything is fine and that our baby was just being stubborn. Of course, I am more than apologetic and offer to send them cookies or take them to lunch and I beg them not to add me to their list of crazy soon to be mothers. They said they wanted to do an ultrasound just to check on the fluids. I was happy about this because I haven't seen our little rascal since he was 17 weeks grown so this was a good treat. But wouldn't you know that as the doctor is trying to find him she has to make several attempts because he is moving around so much!!!! Aghhhhhh......I am going to tell his daddy when he gets home and the little kiddo is going to be grounded I just know it!

So there you have it. This is how we named you, son. You were a little stubborn one rainy March day and we just fell in love with the name Dennis! Dennis Rascal Bagwell - you are sure to turn heads and break hearts in your day and I am sure it is going to start with mine. I have a feeling this little stunt is just a hint of what is to come. I just don't know if I am ready for this!

Truly,
Your crazy mama