Dear baby,
I thought FOR SURE we would have met you by now. Really met you, I mean- held you in our arms and seen your face, found out if you're a boy or a girl, for goodness sake. I want to meet you! I'm getting antsy! You are a wonderful resident and the games we play with your little kicks and punches are still surreal and incredible. Yet, I am anxious to meet you. To really meet you.
Your dad exclaims at least once a day over how big you've gotten (i.e. how big I've gotten!). It is crazy. I can understand his exclamations. There's this whole other addendum to my body now and I'm clumsy with it. I shut myself in doors and knock things over. It doesn't feel like my body, baby. I've given it to you.
The Spring is here and we've been taking walks with the pups. You and I huff and puff our way up the hill behind the church at the end of our street as the dogs scamper laps around us, thrilled to be in the fresh air. There are little buds everywhere we look and the lilacs next to the deck should all be in bloom in just a couple more weeks- usually just in time for Mother's Day. I would love if you'd make your way into the world before Mother's Day, kiddo. That'll be your gift to me, okay? I keep hoping these walks and the beautiful sunshine with coerce you into the world, but if not let's at least agree upon a reasonable timeframe.
All kidding aside, I love you. I want, more than anything, you to come when you're ready. If that means swallowing my antsy anticipation a bit longer, I'll do it for you.
Love, mom
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