Brian versus the Birthing Ball

Sitting here reminiscing over past pregnancies, I was reminded of a funny thing that happened when I was expecting Brianna and Brian was stationed in 29 Palms. I was still at Camp Pendleton awaiting housing; so I would only get to see Brian on the weekends. Well, Brian is very accommodating when I am expecting, he does not complain if, at 9pm, I get a hankerin' for a cup of ice or some mint chocolate chip ice-cream...he really tries to help make me comfortable...unless that requires his sleep to be interrupted. Just kidding ;) he is actually really good about that...he does not complain one bit after I have tossed and turned for an hour and then I finally hoist myself out of the trench I have made in the bed and lumber on in to sleep on the couch ;) He does not make one mention of the approx 15 trips to the bathroom or the kitchen to get my 10th glass of water, or my fumbling around to find the tums as I am choking on the acid in my throat. Nope, not a word of complaint from him ;) What a trooper...he just snoozes on through all the turbulence. I am just glad we don't have a water bed...talk about SEA SICK!!

Anyway, back to my story about expecting Brianna- I had read and researched and decided that I wanted a birthing ball, which is just exactly like one of those large exercise balls...I had chosen a clear one, and I would sit on it and exercise on it all throughout my pregnancy. It just became like a piece of furniture...Brian would even enjoy rolling around on it and jumping playfully on it when he was home on the weekend. Until, one night- that thing ATTACKED Brian- and attempted to keep him hostage! No, things were just never the same between he and the ball after that.

You see, Brian, being the gentleman he is, had gotten up from the couch, probably for the third time at least, to lovingly fill my glass of water. He decided he should probably just bring out the whole Brita pitcher since I was so thirsty. There was no problem on the way to the kitchen. The ball was just there, innocently taking up some space in the hallway, but that was not anything unusual. No, it waited...or lurked, is probably a better word, until it noticed Brian...the poor dear, with a full pitcher of water. His eyes, lovingly focused on his expectant wife, never left her as the whole vicious ambush transpired, the poor thing never saw it coming. I, regretfully, was too late to warn him... It was not until he reached the door way that the ball made its move. It swiftly pinned Brian's legs between itself and the wall very cunningly using the hair on his legs for gripping. His normally powerful strong legs were rendered helpless. Then, it was like slooooow mooootiiioooonnnn....I heard a small muffled cry...his eyes, desperately clinging to mine, opened wide and went sort of blank like a deer's in headlights...his jaw set tightly-his brow furrowed in confusion- as he determined ...that pitcher would NOT DROP OR SPILL OVER!! His pinned legs, in an effort to work free- somehow worked away from the wall...but the ball clung relentlessly to the back of his calves and thighs. His eyes, still ever focused, never left mine...and, as we clung together in the moment, from across the room, I saw, in amazement the hand that held the pitcher jut out in front of him...still -unscathed, unspoiled was the gleeming pure Brita pitcher, still ringed with sparkling dew. His arm bulged under the strain to hold the precious vessel of water as the ball, mercilessly carried him off his feet...rolling and forcing control of him- back, back he rolled, over top of the ball and, for what seemed an eternity,...he skillfully and most unwaveringly balanced himself atop the rogue ball- until...at last- our eye contact broke for one desperate moment, and then, it was over...I clasped my hands together over my mouth at the precious sight of the faithful, victorious arm with the unspoiled beautiful prize..the pitcher, he held it forth, triumphantly over the ball and between his legs, ...the bottoms of his poor little feet rested, spent, on top of that vile wicked thing. The battle- had been won. I waited breathlessly as Brian rose, slowly, he disengaged his legs from the ball, and once again our eyes met, at last...exhausted, he allowed me to help him back to his seat- by my side. I shook...as he quietly and lovingly poured full my glass with the fresh, cool water...after a moment of silence.... "I know you are laughing" he said.