Letter to Baby Girl: Week 40

Past the watermelon stage!

Dear Baby Girl:

Technically, you’re at 39 weeks, 6 days.

And there’s an end in sight.

You’re coming next week for sure if you don’t come earlier.

Pretty great, right?!

We saw the doctor today, and I’m still measuring the same as last week.

But we all know that doesn’t mean anything; you still could come at any time.

Lola was with us in the doctor’s office today. Your father found your heartbeat, and Lola commented that your heartbeat sounds strong. The doctor said you’re really healthy, but the placenta isn’t going to last forever. We need for you to arrive so I can start feeding you and so you can start growing in our home — in our family — where there’s plenty of room.

The next time the doctor sees us will be at the hospital.

Little one, I’m tired. And I’m sorry I’ve been so irritable, like seriously cranky. You probably can’t tell exactly what’s been going on, but I’ve been averaging about four hours of sleep every night for at least the past month. I know some people have it worse, but the fatigue is taking a toll.

Also, it hurts to walk. I feel … bruised. Like someone kicked me between the legs or I straddle-fell on the crossbar of a bicycle. Your beautiful skull creates pressure on all the nerve endings down there in my pelvis, causing pretty sharp pains.

No worries, though. Easy enough to solve. I’ll just keep my feet up and minimize walking.

You know what I love? When your dad gets off of work and stops by the apartment to see us before he goes to class. And  when your dad takes a break from homework to get a drink of water and kiss my forehead and talk to you. And when we pray together, thanking God for the blessing of having you in our lives.

See what I did there, Baby Girl? I acknowledged somewhat negative feelings but I also recognized blessings. Please don’t deny yourself of the range of feelings to experience in this life. It’s okay to feel angry or hurt or irritated, but if you can also exercise some faith and maintain a practical optimism and hope, you’ll do just fine.

I know you’ve been waiting to make your big debut. Heaven knows everyone here on the outside has been waiting. Everyone’s getting impatient. They want to see you. They want pictures. They want to hold you. I know it’s a lot to process, dealing with what other people want, but you’re doing great. I’m proud of you for doing what you want, for taking your time and growing so well.

You know what, though: I’m a little conflicted. Yes, I can’t wait to hold you in my arms, but I’ve really enjoyed our closeness these past nine months. From teeny zygote to full-fledged baby, it’s been quite a ride. This whole time I haven’t gotten sick and you’ve kept my ankles slender and hair shiny and nails strong. Despite my lack of sleep, you are my glow.

You’re moving around a lot more now, which makes me think you’re quite curious and maybe a little crowded. Exploring and stretching are sometimes the same thing. Your father and I will help you do so much more of both once you’re born.

We’re ready for you. We’ll see you soon.

Love, Mom

A little discussion.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s