Counting the minutes...

Everytime I get kicked, I must confess to feeling thoroughly excited. But in a strange way, I can't yet make a connection that this thing kicking inside me is my son! It's like my brain can't fathom what that means - like I'm going to hospital to 'fetch' the baby, as opposed to letting him out! Almost every evening, the hubby and I are sitting on the couch, and he can see my stomach moving - he's just as blown away by the unbelieveable feeling. He'll reach out and put his hand palm down on my belly, and just go "wow" or "that's my son in there...wow..." in a very awe-filled way. I just can't imagine have that caesarian, and having them hand me the baby - and seeing him for the first time. I know it's going to happen, for sure...but I still somehow can't believe it's real....sigh...