The child within my womb continues to grow. He's still somewhat of an acrobat, flipping this way and that throughout the day. By evening, however, he is usually in the head down position. And every evening, as I get under the covers of my bed, I am transported back in time. You see, every night this child gets the hiccups. Around the same time every night, I feel the rhythmic bump of fetal hiccups. And my heart aches.

I didn't know what they were at first when I was pregnant with the Munchkin. Without reliable internet, I didn't have the ability to Google "short, spasmodic blips in your lower abdomen." (Thanks, Dr. Sears!) I explained it to my mother one day and she let me know what was going on. I was amused at the time. It became a clockwork type of thing as well.

Every night, around 10:30, I would relax in bed. Shortly thereafter, my womb would begin rhythmically jumping with her hiccups. I'd smile and talk to her, telling her the things that I shared only with her at that time. Fears, joys and other emotions that surrounded the pregnancy, the impending adoption and other pertinent issues of the day. Eventually they would quit, sometimes after I was already asleep. We would repeat the adventure the next evening.

When I was pregnant with Nicholas, I experienced something similar though it wasn't a night occurrence. He'd skip a few days in a row and then remind me of the feeling. However, this kid? Totally falling in his big sister's footsteps. Every night, at around the same time, the hiccups come along (followed shortly thereafter by a brief freak out on the child's part; apparently he hates the hiccups as much as his sister did). I find myself just so emotionally charged. It's hard to explain.

I can see myself, vividly, pregnant with the Munchkin. I can see the pajamas I wore every night. I can see my hair at the time. I can see how small my belly was in comparison to what it looks like now. I hear the words I said, the lyrics I sang. I feel and taste the tears I cried. It's all so vivid, bright colors and sound and feeling, that it almost feels real. It's unnerving.

And it's beautiful.

Sadly, most things I have "of" my daughter are simply memories like these. And while these subsequent pregnancies have brought up things that I wasn't particularly ready to deal with at the time (but did, of course), each pregnancy has also allowed me to remember those cherished but sometimes forgotten moments. Maybe they were forgotten or pushed aside because they were too hard to remember on a regular basis. I don't know. But every night, I thank this little one growing in my womb for connecting me with his sister again. The joy I feel with his hiccups doesn't replace the joy I experienced the first time around nor does the experience with Munchkin's hiccups negate this child's either. They're unique in their own way, just as the children are unique. I love them both for what they have brought into my life. I love the Munchkin's hiccups because they were my first. I love this child's hiccups because they will be my last.

Who knew love could be hiccups!

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For more, read:

1. Celebrated Milestones.

2. They're Not Related: So What?

3. A Mother's Memories.

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Photo Credit: ©2007, Jenna Hatfield. All Rights Reserved.