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Sarah’s heartburn is unbearable, for us both. Acid reflux is a problem for preggos, especially at night because when they lie down, stomach acid rises into their esophagus. Yuck. Therefore, she’s sleeping with her head elevated, and making use of the “body pillow” Kenn and Julie bought from Bed, Bath & Beyond. It’s doing the trick, but our king-size is getting mighty crowded. This morning I counted nine pillows, three blankets, four stuffed animals, five books, and one dirty spoon. Now the body pillow. It’s such a massive presence that when I wake up in the middle of the night, I can’t find my wife. She’s over there somewhere, I guess, because I can hear the noises in her stomach…

Now that my wife’s organs have the population density of Hong Kong, the kicking in there has begun to feel less like kicking and more like small jabs from elbows and knees. That’s good. Some women get totally freaked out by what they consider a lack of movement inside of them, and rely on something called “fetal kick counts”—or FKC to the pros.

What they do is pick a time of day when the kid is most active, take a piece of paper, and make a hash mark every time they feel a movement in there. Hiccups don’t count. According to experts, the fetus should move about ten times in four hours…

As the belly broadens, so does the complaining. She’s itchy. She’s tired. She’s hungry. She’s sick. She’s all of the above, or some combination thereof. I’m trying my best to empathize with every single complaint, but it’s hard when they’re coming one on top of the other. I was working on my laptop last night when Sarah started mumbling something about how these hiccups were driving her crazy.

I didn’t see why it was such a big deal. “You’ve got the hiccups?”

“No,” she said firmly. “Babu has the hiccups…