That's the sound of my due date whizzing by.
GROAN. That's the sound of me standing. Or walking. Or laying down. Or moving at all. It all hurts.
Gurgle. That's the sound of our overworked head as I use it once every 20 minutes or so.
Bump. That's the sound of this enormous belly of mine bumping in to every part of this boat. (followed by an "ugh".)
Ahhhhh. That's the sound of me drinking tea. One of my few pleasures at the moment.
BounceBounce. That's the sound of my sweet boy, not used to having a lump for a mom.
Grab & Giggle. That's the sound of the same boy taking the hand of any able bodied adult who happens up the dock and dragging them into a game of soccer or crabbing or chase or anything to be more active than that big lady sitting in the cockpit sipping her tea.
Shift & Scrub. That's the sound of my dear husband, not knowing quite what to do but wanting to do something. Wax the transome? Clean the guinea pig cage. Trying to feel useful until game time.
Whisper-tap. That's the sound of the fellas down in bed each night, telling stories and giggling together while I rock on the birth ball and try to make myself busy reading online and tapping at the keyboard.
Whoosh. GROAN. Gurgle. Bump (ugh). Ahhhhhh. Bounce Bounce. Grab & Giggle. Shift & Scrub. Whisper-tap.