Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Little Miss,

Oh, you, my dear, are my light and you're not even here yet.  I get so uncomfortable sometimes, with this body of mine staying the same as you get bigger so everything seems off balance.  I laughed yesterday calling your daddy a skinny minny and myself a roly poly and we giggled and walked on, arm and arm through the rain.  But you are worth every single second of awkwardness.

Your daddy has been reading Charlotte's Web to you and the voices he does cracks me up.  Last night he held up the book for you to see the picture, and I said, "We've discussed this." (implying that you do not have x-ray vision through my belly) and he responded that "Yes, we have" and gave me a withering look like I was hopeless, when you clearly had super powers.  You like hearing his voice it seems and he gets close and whispers to you and kisses where we think your head is and he pats the other side and says "baby butt!" He's enthralled with you, and you're not even here yet!

You seem to have forgiven him for being away so long, and the two of you share special hours in the morning while I sleep where you hop about for him.  But the afternoons are all mine, when I wake from what is becoming a daily late morning/early afternoon nap and you hop and flip about, causing my stomach to look like the ocean in a storm.  And I daydream about what our afternoons this winter will be like, huddled in a blanket reading, taking in the rare sun of the days.  Curled up, singing and listening to music.  Napping.  Definitely napping.

We whisper to you all the things you will see once you're here, all the places we will go.  We sit at a cafe and I imagine ordering you a hot cocoa with whipped cream and you getting a mustache.  We dream of each holding one of your hands and swinging you as we walk around the Smithsonian grounds, of watching those flying kites, of picnics in the grass. 

But we've still got a while.  And I'm perfectly fine with that.  You stay there where it is warm and safe and just enjoy little one.


Sunday, September 25, 2011

I asked G the date today and when he said the 25th, I smirked at him.  He stared, wondering why I seemed so smug.  I then informed him that we had less than 2 months now until her guess date.  He just stared at me, with a look of "holy cow" upon his face.

The stroller, carseat and swing are in boxes in our kitchen.  The crib arrives in about a week (it wasn't supposed to arrive for another month or three).  There is a pack n play in our office, along with the diaper bag and the cloth diapers I've stocked up on.  Baby clothes are all throughout the house as we round up what's new and what we've been collecting for years.  And we have both a boppy and a my brest friend in our living room. 

It's becoming quite clear that she'll be here in no time.  Children's books are strewn about as G has been reading to her often.  I see my midwife every 2 weeks now, and am getting ready to schedule one last sonogram to check my placenta and make sure a normal delivery is going to work.  And we took classes on cloth diapering and baby wearing today. 

It's both scary and exciting.  I sat next to a woman with a 5 week old little girl today and said to G, "Little Miss will be that age around Christmas."  She was so cute and tiny and G's pretty sure he's going to break our daughter because "she'll be so little."  But then I saw him put on a ring sling and a mei tai and he seemed so natural. 

We're still in awe that this is our life.  This thing we never thought would be ours.  This experience we weren't even sure we wanted any time soon. And yet he likes to wrap up around me in the mornings while I doze and feel her kick against him.  He likes to whisper plans for the future to her.  We sat eating grilled cheese with apple slices and glasses of milk tonight and he said, "Just wait til you're old enough for solid foods."  We finished it off with chocolate pudding and he said, "You won't understand how lucky you are for a while to have a mama who cooks like this." 

I just want time to slow.  For her childhood to drag on.  For all the little giggly moments to never cease.  And yet I want her here, to hold.  To teach how to bake cookies and build forts and dance on her daddy's toes.  Not too slow, but not too fast either. 

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Dear Escargot,

Your daddy is here!  He's been so excited to be able to feel you.  (He kind of tears up a bit.)  His hand is on my belly a lot because for the last couple of days you've been hopping like crazy! 

We've talked a lot about you.  We discuss names, playing with nicknames.  We look at baby stuff and he's fascinated by how little you're going to be.  I think he's nervous about breaking you.

You are a very loved little girl.