The Very Quiet Cricket

I want to find out the baby's gender at birth. It's one of the only aspects of this unexpected pregnancy that gives me genuine anticipation. I like to ask Chai if we should have another boy or another girl. He keeps telling me I should have two more boys. I asked him what we should name them and he said "Tarzan." I said "We can name one Tarzan, but what about the other one?" and he said "Tarzan, too!" We've started talking occasionally about Baby Tarzan in my belly. "It will grow and grow," I told Chai, quoting Dr. Seuss. "Oh, wow!" he says. Sometimes he puffs out his own stomach and declares that he has a baby, too. Other times he decides he wants to remember being a baby and he curls up in my arms and uses his baby voice and requests "milk from breasts."

My baby is a Very Quiet Cricket. I'm almost 14 weeks, and I really can't believe how silent and gentle this pregnancy has been so far. With the other two I was never really sick, but noticed there were a few weeks when smells and memories of smells distressed me and the queasy came easy. Nothing this time, not even any fatigue. I feel stunningly normal. I want to knock on the door and ask if h/she is really in there. The only signs are my thickening belly and my very, very soft heart. So much of what I see and hear stabs me with poignancy, I can tell whatever hormones are conspiring in my chemistry have turned on my tears full blast. I cry at descriptions of great kindness as well as great suffering. I cry for little children and the elderly. I cry for anyone who feels disappointed or lonely. Even though it's heavy, I like these mighty emotions, they feel just, and they make me feel connected to the Quiet Cricket. Maybe h/she will have a heart like my heart.