More specifically and less assumptively: what if this boy-fetus is even more physical than his two very, very, very physical sisters?
He moves inside me like ocean waves crashing against the breakers. E hiccuped. L strummed her fingers.
He's moshing. He's a mosh pit of one. He's at a 24-hour rave.
He lurches and rolls, lurches and rolls. He feels like he's working on something...gaining momentum...trying to dislodge heavy equipment...start an avalanche...
...tip a cow. I feel like he's trying to tip me over. He's cow tipping, from the inside out.