Hearing Mummy (that's me)

I don't need to read fancy studies (there are plenty, by the way, the most recent was done concurrently in China and Canada) to prove that this Bear knows it's Mummy's voice. We had a little conversation the other morning, and it went something like this. Actually, the start of the conversation was involuntary gurgling from my stomach. As my digestive system gets squeezed to infinity (and beyond) the noises seem to increase. So there I was, half asleep in bed, and my stomach started one of its orchestral symphonies. I'm kind of used to this kind of melody, but the bear had the shock of it's life. The minute my stomach started playing the double bass, the baby kicked and punched and felt like it was having a mild panic attack. It was kind of sad to feel, so I thought, maybe my voice will help soothe its fears.
I started talking. It felt pretty strange - me, alone in bed, talking to an unborn fetus - but the minute I started, the baby calmed down. I said things like, 'It's ok baby, nothing is wrong' and that seemed to do the trick. Until the next rumble gathered pace. Again, the baby didn't know what was going on it's is usually peaceful home (incidentally, we've give the bump an address: Bear Pullen, 1C Lynton Road, NW6 blah blah blah). So, I talked again in a soft, reassuring voice and it helped calm the little one down. Wow, I thought, as I lay essentially talking to myself in bed at 7.30am on a rainy London morning, my baby knows me, it likes me - it's probably the only person in the world who isn't irritated by my whine. Nay, it seems to like the whine.
It was a special moment and I feel that we are closer than ever, me and the Bear. I feel like a real Mummy-in-the-making since our chat the other morning, and, having watched a disturbing programme on children in care homes, I've realised I need to do this baby proud, and give it the best home - with DH, of course - that is humanly possible.