This will probably be the last letter I write to you while you’re still baking, as I’m about a week away from your due date and I’m praying in every religion that you don’t decide to make a late appearance.  However, I must remember you ARE your father’s child, so you very well could come on your own damn time, thankyouverymuch.  Sigh.

I don’t sleep anymore and while I’ve carried you low throughout this entire pregnancy, you’ve all of a sudden gotten wise to the fact that you’ve been missing out on the precious real estate below my rib cage and have moved on up to check it out.  You’re heading in the wrong direction.  Just an FYI.

I have tried everything from walking to sex to learning to use a weed whacker to try and jar you loose, youngin’, but you seem pretty content to  prove all the wives tales false.  Your father drew the limit on letting me mow the lawn yesterday.  But that castor oil myth looks more and more tempting by the day.

These last couple weeks have been a big time of reflection for me and things are starting to finally feel a little more real.  In less than 2 weeks I will get to meet you.  It seems like yesterday I stared down at a pregnancy test with two lines and squealed loudly through our empty apartment.  Your dad was hanging out with friends and I couldn’t wait for him to get home.  I taped the pee stick to our refrigerator for him to find.  Which, looking back, might not have been the most sanitary route to go.

It’s been quite a journey ever since.  And now as I near the end I think a lot about how labor will go and how life will be with a newborn.  But most of all I think about what you’ll look like and who you will be.  Whose eyes you’ll have.  If your hair will be curly and blonde like mine or if you’ll have your dad’s darker complexion.  Will you be a little neurotic nutcase like your mom or a mellow little fellow like your dad?  Will you be a mama’s boy or will you live up to a name like Fox and be the kind of child we’re pulling off the ceiling fan and buttering his head to get it unstuck from the banisters?

I try to imagine the first moment I see you.  Will I cry?  Will your father cry?  Will my worries that you’re healthy and happy start from the moment I hold you in my arms?  Will I look at your dad and realize that we have so much love for each other that you’re our beautiful result?

I’ve gotten a little sappy on you, I know.  But I just want you to know how much you’re loved now, already.  Regardless of all the bladder pinching and rib kicking.  The acid reflux and achy hips.  You are so worth it already and I can’t wait until the day we meet and start our own beautiful journey.

Love,

Your Mom

39 Weeks Pregnant Belly

You’re huge, kiddo!

 

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