I keep wondering what you’ll be like when you get here. We have this crazy ultrasound picture from 24 weeks which clearly shows your mouth and chin, as though you are peering out at us. I think you will have my mouth. I hope you have Aaron’s thick dark hair, rather than my silly stringy hair that always seems to be tangled and messy. I hope you have his sense of humor, too. And I hope that you have my need for exploration. I hope you are filled with wonder at the world.
I already feel like I know a lot about you. You are most active in the afternoons and evenings; dancing and kicking — sometimes for hours on end. You love music, especially violin, cello, and guitar. You usually move more when I play classical music, but yesterday you were rocking out to The White Stripes. When the cat lays next to you, you shift in my belly to be closer to her warmth and rumbling purr. Last week while doing yoga, I must have gotten into a position that you didn’t like, because you started kicking me like mad.
I can’t wait to spend my days with you. I’m looking forward to going for runs in the park together (though for awhile, we may be confined to the fire roads, rather than the winding little mud trails). I’m looking forward to letting you play in the garden this spring while I plant and harvest. I’m looking forward to zoo trips, and library visits, and curling up on the sofa to read stories together. I’m looking forward to baking things with you when you get a little older — warm sugar cookies and a kitchen (and likely, a toddler) covered in frosting. I’m curious what your laughter will sound like.
Just a few more weeks now… I have about two weeks left at work, then will be home, getting the last of the house projects and sewing for you finished, so that everything will be ready when you get here. You should arrive two or three weeks after I leave work, maybe sooner. I hope we can bring you into this world peacefully and quickly, and that you are as happy to be here as Aaron and I will be to see you.