Jason Stringer

Still half asleep and wrapped tidy under my toasty bed covers, I roll over to face my sleeping wife. The morning light is forcing its way through the fabric of our curtains and bringing our bedroom to life for a new day.
I love the smell of my wife first thing in the morning; the feel of her soft, warm skin.

Shuffling my weight to roll over, I wrap my arm around her large belly and nestle it between her and our mattress, holding her close. I wait patiently; all the while she continues to sleep. And snore.
It’s her incessant snoring that has woken me.
Her belly gently rises and falls as she takes in excessive amounts of air. They say pregnant woman can snore up a storm. I believe it. I’ve witnessed it. It has woken me every morning for the past six months.

The morning is still young. I hear the dogs beginning to stir outside our window. Almost time for their walk and a biscuit, and they know it. The cat meows from the front door. He has arrived to an empty bowl and it is breakfast time – this is clearly not good enough. He will repeat the meow until fed.

Still I wait, my arm growing restless and slightly shifting position every now and then, waiting for the miracle. Should I just get up now and start my day, or wait a little longer? The last thing I want tis to wake her. Her rest is very important.

Then he kicks me. Hard.

Exactly where my wrist is resting on her stretched, basketball belly; my unborn son gives me a series of large ‘good morning’ taps to let me know he is still kicking strong inside his womb.
He says good morning to me in this way every day, and it produces the most unforced smile on my face that I just can’t shake. I don’t know if it’s the result of being proud, happy or amazed, but all I can do when he greets me each morning is smile big. Smile as big as his kicks.

Some mornings, when he has continued to kick and poke and roll and shuffle, my smile has turned into giggles. Muffled giggles from beneath my pillows so we don’t wake mummy. I am laughing so hard that I am weak and unable to break my arm free from that belly’s mattress-clenched grip.

The day he is born draws closer and closer, and I am more excited about that day than anything else. But I have to admit I am going to miss my little wake-up kicks in the mornings.
I consider them the first of our father-and-son bonding while an unaware mummy sleeps on. That is, of course, until the cheeky bugger kicks her bladder…