John and I had just finished Christmas Eve celebrations with the Jameson/Arrison clan and arrived at my parents’ house, crawling into bed around midnight.  As we were praying before sleep, I felt the baby kick.  For the first time, I was sure this was the baby and not my digestive system.  I told John and put his hand on my belly.  A few seconds later, I felt another kick and heard John’s sharp intake of breath as his mouth fell open.  Several minutes after midnight on Christmas, we both got to feel stirrings of new life.  A Christmas blessing indeed.  And probably the last time I’ll ever be happy that I got kicked on Christmas.