Fourteen Weeks

Dear Babycakes,

On Monday, I had to leave work after being there for only two-and-a-half hours. Then yesterday, I took a sick day. I could work from home on Monday, fortunately, but if you expect cute clothes and, oh, I don’t know, food and care for you during the day once you arrive, you gotta knock this crap right off. (I’m not going to be afraid to tell you that once you get here, either.)

The shakiness, the vomitousness, the food aversions. I could feed you a lot better if you would let me. I know you’re trying, though. I can feel it. I’m trying, too. I’m trying to reform my ways and get you to bed earlier, to drink even more water even though it wakes me at all hours to pee, which then wakes the dogs, and do all my research. I’m trying to learn to say no, so that we can relax together.

Your daddy is trying, too. He is working so much, to help us get ready for your arrival. He’s practicing his patience, because I am definitely trying it, and he is so excited each Tuesday night when we lie down to go to sleep and I read him our baby book, which tells us about what’s you’re up to in my belly. He kisses you and asks about how you are doing all the time. He is going to be one giant sucker for you, kiddo. Another piece of unsolicited advice: Learn which side your bread is buttered on.

I have been drinking up information about parenting and pregnancy from all my friends and acquaintances who have been there, done that, especially on days where I feel like I'm all I Quit the World Is Ending. One told me her mom told her, upon finding out she was pregnant: “Whatever you expect it to be, it won’t be that.” That pretty much sums up everything my friends have told me—it’s so much wilder, crazier, more awful, and yet, more awesome than I can even imagine right now. 

The outpouring of love and well wishes must have reached you there in your little amniotic haven, right? So many people have turned out to hope that you are doing well, and someone even sent us a tiny pair of Minnetonka Moccasins. Your first shoes! I had a pink pair when I was a baby, and so you get to continue the tradition. For my part, I bought you a bib and burp cloth the other day at a craft fair where Daddy and I were working. It has deer and other woodland creatures on it. I’m going to try really hard not to make you wear ads, baby. I want you to learn from style, not from licensed characters, but we’ll see how that goes. Still, it feels weird to buy baby gear, or accept baby gear. I’ve always been the one giving it. And, although I haven’t worried about this nearly as much as I thought I would, I’m still making sure you and I will stick together for the duration. If will and desire has anything to do with it, we will. That’s what I go on every day, especially the days where you are not making me sick (relief!) and then I start to worry something’s not working in there (total terror!).

Some days are better than others. We’re going to figure that out together. This will all be a process. It’s our very own adventure and the idea that by this winter—the worst part of winter in Minnesota, where I sometimes feel like there's no hope or sign of life—I will be a mom just blows me away. Brand new life. I promise I’m going to do my best to be up to the task.

Love,

Mama

PS: To my readers: I promise the blog will not only be letters and baby info! Just easing back in.