There are a lot of things that can make you feel like a bad mom before you even give birth. I've broken plenty of pregnancy rules: I've drunk a little wine, accidentally eaten some goat cheese, not-so-accidentally eaten strip steak that was still deliciously pink inside, forgotten to take my prenatal pill, and lifted stuff I knew was too heavy. I've committed all those "sins" and suffered the temporary guilt trip.
But nothing makes me feel like worse of a mom-to-be than — and this is something I haven't really admitted to anyone — disliking the sensation of my babies moving inside of me.
Since about 19 weeks, I've been feeling their twists, turns, kicks, and headbutts. I had read, and was told, that reaching this pregnancy milestone was a wondrous achievement, one that filled women with awe and brought them closer to the little gymnasts inside their tummy.
I'll admit that the first few times my two boys moved, it was pretty cool, and I felt like a bonafide pregnant lady in some life insurance commercial when my wife would gingerly put her hands on my belly to feel them. That lasted about a week.
Now their movements, which I experience all over my abdomen from my crotch to my top ribs, make me feel, at best, kinda icky, and, at worst, extremely uncomfortable, like I'm about to have diarrhea. Not exactly the warm, fuzzy vibe you want. They're squirming around right now, in fact. I swear, they never give me a break! And it bugs me. Really, really bugs me. Which makes me, of course, a really, really bad mom.
Maybe this is one of my first lessons in motherhood: I'm not going to love everything my little guys do. And I'm just gonna have to get used to the constant guilt.