I am 32 weeks and six days pregnant with you. The baby book has a place in it for me to write a letter to you, and I will eventually. I want your book to be nice and something that doesn't embarrass you to look at. I have no such qualms about the blog though, so here goes.
The book wants a letter in response to, "How Mommy Feels..." That is a loaded question. Today I am tired and achy and you caused me to suck my breath in hard many times throughout the day. You are violently active. If you are curious, your butt is stuck in my right rib cage, and your feet pop out my right side all the time. It turns out your head is the thing wreaking havoc on my bladder.
At six weeks I felt ill all the time. At twelve weeks I was nearly ten pounds lighter, exhausted and miserable. At sixteen weeks I was thrilled because food was possibly appetizing again. At eighteen I was dazed. You are a girl! At twenty weeks we are both terrified. You might have a marker for Down's. We have to follow-up. At 23 weeks we are tentatively happy again. Everything looks fine. And then boredom and waiting and counting down all the time. And here we are today.
I suppose none of this is really how I feel. On the inside. With the rainbows and butterflies and such. I feel...panicked. Not about you. I am very excited to know you as a person and the prospect of you is thrilling. But that doesn't relieve the panic. Let me attempt an explanation.
Nothing qualifies me to be your mother. If I had to interview for this I know that I would lose the job to many more qualified candidates. I know this because I spent about a half an hour this week near tears because I HAVE A STRETCH MARK ON MY STOMACH! Will I be zebra striped by the end of this pregnancy? It will never go away. Never EVER! Except that it did go away. In fact, it wasn't a stretch mark. It was a dent that my pants had made. And on another occasion this week I got almost lightheaded at the idea that your father and I won't be able to go to a Saturday afternoon matinee at the drop of a hat anymore. And I just switched from Flintstones chewables to a real prenatal vitamin this week. And twice now I have heard that poor nutrition can cause you to come out sooner and my first thought was not "I should avoid that," but instead was,"hmm, interesting."
Hello. I am going to be your mom. Good luck.
P.S. Daddy wants you to know he loves you and doesn't have any of these worries.