Just now, I was lying in bed and felt a "kick" from within.
Trust me, it was not a kick. Womb service is still closed, y'all. But this "kick" was strong enough to make the bible on my stomach move a little. My bible.
That's some impressive tummy rumblings. I know, you're jealous.
I hear phantom babies crying, and I feel phantom fetuses kicking. I wonder how long this will last? A vision comes to mind: ancient Missy, lying in a nursing home, grabbing Walker's skinny wrinkled hand and resting on my expansive waist and saying through toothless gums: "You feel my baby honey? Eh? He's busy today!"
Which may or may not be nothing more than an evil ploy to get him to run to KFC at 10pm and buy me some mashed potatoes and brown gravy.
Which is almost worth getting pregnant again for, come to think of it.