Dear Baby Girl,
I didn’t skip week 38. Lest you think your mother can’t count, I need to explain a few things that happened at your ultrasound last Friday:
- We confirmed that your due date is sooner than what the people at the doctor’s office originally determined. I mean, it’s only four days sooner, but four days is more than half a week, which prompts me to round up and move our weekly count up by a week. So that’s how I got week 39. Of course, you’re going to come when you’re good and ready, but it’s nice to have a more correct number out there. So it’s not me who can’t count; it’s the people with the science degrees. Blame them.
- We saw your cutie-face profile. You had this smooshed-in nose and these puckered lips, and one of your hands was up by your forehead until you brought it toward your mouth. I wanted to cuddle you so much right then.
- We found out approximately how big you are. The ultrasound tech measured your noggin and your tummy, and the computer calculated your weight. Of course there’s a margin of error, but I think you may be close to what the ultrasound tech measured, just because I know what it’s like to lift weights or other things of various hefts like bags of sugar or gallons of milk. You’re somewhere in between a bag of sugar and gallon of milk, little one. The perinatologist told us that you’d most likely pattern your birth weight after the parent who had the heavier birth weight. That wasn’t me: I was 5 pounds, 4 ounces. So you can blame your father. Well, “blame” might be too strong a word for you because you’re an innocent party, but I’m the one that gets to push you out, so I’ll blame him instead.
- We learned that since you’d still be significantly far away from the 10-pound threshold by the time you’re born, that I can try to deliver you vaginally. If you were closer to 10 pounds, doctors would suggest a c-section. But both the perinatologist and the doctor have witnessed Asian moms successfully birthing decent-sized babies like you. This reassures me.
I told several people at church yesterday how big you are, and they either looked at me and said, “What?!” or they outright said, “But you’re so little. How can you be carrying such a big baby?” Well, I could be impressed with myself, but I’m more impressed with you. Impressed, enamored, completely in awe.
Your Florida grandma and her husband have started their trip out here. They should arrive by the end of the week, and they are very excited. Your Florida grandma has even gone so far to prophesy a little brother for you in the next two years. She’s already predicting siblings for you! What do you think about that?
Also, I think Florida Grandma would like for you to call her “Lola.” It’s a Filipino term of endearment for grandmother. And it’s a good way to distinguish between Florida and Utah grandma, though I doubt you’d ever be confused. Both are awesome ladies, though.
Today, the doctor checked me and said that I’m around two centimeters wide and 70% effaced. Is that too much information for you? This is especially helpful for me, since the last time the doctor checked I was totally closed for business. And yet, according to a nurse-midwife friend of mine, I could have today’s measurements for the next three hours or the next two weeks. It would be nice if my body cooperated sooner than later. Once you’re out, you can keep growing as much as you want!
I admit I’m getting a little more nervous each day, but we listened to your heart again today at the doctor’s office, and you sound as strong as ever. We’re going to be just fine.
Your father is a real sweetheart. He said he was nervous, too. He’s nervous about my pain and the uncertain date of your arrival. He really wants to give us his best possible support. Lola suggested that he give us a blessing, which is a mighty fine idea. Bless away, Dada.
Little one, we already know you’re a cool and remarkable baby. Everyone is so excited to meet you, but not as excited as your dad and I.
We’ll see you soon. Like, dang soon. Hopefully.