Have I mentioned how ridiculously excited we are for you to get here? Today I bought some really lovely hand-painted yarn for you. I’m going to make it into a dress. I think you’ll like it, it’s soft and marbled shades of red and amber and brown. I bought a couple of story books for you at the library sale today, too. I’m really looking forward to reading them with you. On the way home, I tuned the radio to the classical music station, and cranked the volume up in hopes you could hear it. We discovered the other day that you seem to have a fondness for classical music — especially Mendelssohn. When some friends started playing Mendelssohn on Sunday afternoon, you stopped kicking and pounding, and started gently rocking your whole body back and forth.
You kick all the time now… it seems you never stop. Sometimes you wake me in the middle of the night with your kicking. I imagine you lying there, trying out your legs and arms, moving everything, and trying to learn how it all works. It’s good to know that you’re there, but it still feels so strange and foreign to me. Aaron hasn’t been able to feel you yet, but I think it’s because of where you are. He was a little too late every time you let loose with a kick so hard it moved my belly. Soon, though. He’s so very excited about you getting here.
We have been working on your room. It is next to ours. I hope you like it. We are hoping to finish painting it in the next few days, then we will get your crib and dresser assembled. Aaron has been working really hard on your room, and is determined to do it himself; it really is rather endearing. I have been scrounging everywhere for toys, traveling gear, and clothes for you, and I must say, we’re doing pretty well in that department. While Aaron is out of town this next week, I plan to do a lot of sewing for you. I hope everything I make works well and fits you.
I keep talking to you more. It still feels a little silly, of course. But I have been trying out different names to call you. So far, the one I like the best is your nickname, “Spoonie”. I think that one may stick. I’m sorry. I promise I will stop calling you that before you start driving.