24 August 2015
Dear Baby, Volume 1
Twenty-six weeks today. You are the size of a head of lettuce and I am two weeks away from the third trimester and fourteen (or so) weeks away from meeting you! I can hardly believe it. Your kicks get stronger and more frequent with each passing day: you like to perform your dance routine when I am trying to fall asleep at night. I have a feeling you're going to be feisty.
Your daddy and I went to IKEA this weekend to try and get organized and also to pick up a few small items for you. We bought you a play gym, a pack of tiny striped bibs (your mama loves stripes!) and some washcloths. We also each ate a vanilla ice cream cone in your honor (IKEA tradition). I promise I'll always buy you an ice cream cone whenever we go there together. Maybe you will enjoy browsing aimlessly with me more than your daddy does. He prefers efficiency!
I had a dream last night where I was giving you a sink bath and you were clutching a rubber ducky. You were squirmy and smiley and had lots of rolls. When it was finished, I wrapped you up in a yellow duck hooded towel and we snuggled on my bed. I love the color yellow. I wonder what colors you'll love?
More and more now, I'm picturing what life will look like once you arrive. Your daddy and I are both a little worried about the lack of sleep (we love to sleep), but more than anything, we are so excited to have you here with us. We love our life together and can only imagine how cool it will be when you join us.
It is currently the last week of August, and typically, I would be soaking up my final few days of summer leisure before returning to the classroom to teach. (Your mama teaches Pre-Kindergarten in New York City). But not this year. You are coming this year(!) and I really wanted to be home with you. I am so grateful that your daddy and I were able to plan for me to take some time off. It feels a little bit strange not preparing for a classroom of kiddos, but that feeling is trumped by the fact that I can focus on preparing for you.
I turn twenty-nine next week. Twenty-eight was simultaneously one of the hardest and best years of my life. I'll tell you more about that another time, when you're bigger. I never really thought about it like this before, but I think I've been waiting to meet you for twenty-nine years. Maybe we've met before? I think we have. I think you are an old soul like me. I love you so much already.