I like the occasional coffee drink. Not black Folgers like my mother drinks all day, but a cappuccino or even just a flavored black coffee. I had made it known that I wanted an espresso machine with a frother for Christmas last year, before I knew I was pregnant and couldn't have all the caffeine, and I not only got one from Ryan but I also received a French press from my brother. Yesterday, in the mood for coffee and citing studies which state that a cup or two a day isn't bad enough to do damage to a fetus, I made a pot in the press. Since it's a 14 oz press, it only makes about a cup and a half of the smoothest Swiss almond chocolate coffee I have ever tasted. I made myself two pots, about 3 cups, which isn't that much for most people but for someone who hasn't had caffeine in about 4 months and whose pregnant body metabolizes it slowly, it was enough to leave me bouncing and vibrating all evening. And it got me my first kicks.
Yes, all it took was a massive overdose of caffeine and and what must have felt like an earthquake ridden womb, to get my baby kicking hard enough for me to feel it. All. Damned. Night. Also, unrelated to the kicking but certainly not to the coffee, I had some really strange dreams last night. Tom as a serial killer? I need to quit watching so much Dexter.