So what if I talk to my stomach?
People on the subways who talk to themselves elicit strange stares. Obviously.
So it should be no surprise to me that when I crane my neck downwards in public and address my stomach, the same should happen.
Yes, I've officially started talking to the fetus. Yes, I feel crazy. Yes, sometimes I lose myself around other people and start asking the fetus questions. Yes, once or twice I've gotten the stink eye.
“How about some broccoli for dinner, little kicky?” I’ll say. "No, you want poutine only? That's not healthy.... okay, you convinced me: just poutine it is!"
Nuttiness aside, I've been reading that acquainting the fetus with the sound of my voice (and my husband's voice) is a good thing, so that when it's born it will already have some familiarity with its primary caregivers.
Some of my friends read stories to their babies in utero. But for that, I need more focused time, baby books and probably a better stimulus than just my belly button.
To prime this kid for the world to come, my husband and I have also started playing music to my stomach. We've gone so far as to put on our old, grainy-sounding records (yes, records) of Sesame Street and Annie (Annie, the musical soundtrack belongs to my husband Ted! He says it was mine, but it was really his. He's just trying to save face).
Now, I've read that some people even mount headphones on their abdomens. That, I certainly won't do.
Whether in private or public, that seems totally odd.