baby letters, week 37

Updated: Sep 28

Dear Baby,


How are you doing in there? You’ve probably been hearing some...agitation...lately. Your Mama has felt especially moody this week. I’m tired, I’m uncomfortable, and work is bleeding me dry. My body is revolting from sitting in front of my computer so much, and I have nothing left to offer anyone at the end of the day. I pretty much have nothing to offer anyone at any time of day, but I have to function somehow.


It's touch and go.


There were more than a few teary moments this week. A few breakdowns trying to pull these damn compression socks on my elephantine feet with aching hands and a huge belly in the way, some frustrating communication moments with your Papa, my absurd lack of patience with AT&T (for the record, the bane of your Mama’s existence is dealing with anything technology-related, so get used to that) and our Alexa device – who, I swear to whatever powers that be, despises me as much as I despise her. She doesn’t listen to me, and she only very rarely plays the songs I want her to play. Praise be that she’s finally calming me down a bit by actually playing a random playlist that I enjoy. (Also for the record: whenever you feel a bad case of “UGH” rising, put on your favorite songs. They have a rather miraculous effect on the psyche.) Still, I find myself on the precipice of irritation by the smallest of the small at any given moment.


Anyway, this is me being fully transparent. Thanks for listening. It's probably not what you want to read years down the road, but, you know, life is all the things, and sometimes everything feels hard, and we just do the best we can. We try to be positive, but when that feels out of reach, we offer ourselves grace and try to be with the feelings and hope that we don’t take them out on those we love.

Let’s shift gears, shall we?


Welcome to your 37th Womb Week, my love!!


You seem to be a little less active at night these days, though you move more when I'm on my left side, and you're still quite the athlete during the day. Perhaps you’re trying to give your Mama much-needed moments of shut-eye, knowing as you do that she already wakes up about ten times each night to maneuver herself like a whale into a more comfortable position, another 3-5 times to pee, another two or so times for random periods of insomnia, and another four or so times to throw the blankets off or pull them back on due to night sweats. Needless to say, nights are very action-packed, so thank you for not keeping me awake.


We had our last bi-monthly appointment last week. As of this week, we see a midwife each week until you pop out! You’re still head down, so thank you again. All in all, you’ve been a trooper for these past 8+ months.


By the way, I called it: that bump that always wiggles is indeed your butt. My little butt-wiggler, you. The lump on the other side of my belly must be your knees. I love when I feel your butt jut out at the same time as what must be you kicking on the opposite side. I imagine you as Goldilocks, trying to find that “just right” position in my now-cramped uterus, like your Mama. Or maybe you’re just restless, like your Papa.


Oh goodness, how I can’t wait to meet you and watch you grow into yourself! I’ll see some of me here, some of your Papa there, some of your other family members elsewhere, and some things that are 100% you and you alone. You will be at once a Picasso portrait – a conglomerate of features and expressions – and unlike anyone else in totality.


We had our first acupuncture appointment over the weekend. I wasn’t surprised to feel you squirming as I lay on the table listening to a track of monks chanting “Om” amidst nature sounds. I knew you would feel that energy moving!


On the other hand, you were pretty quiet when we waded in Seneca Lake on Sunday. It was a desperate attempt to de-puff my feet, and I made it to submerged about halfway up the belly. You were as still as could be in the water, probably in shock (“What is HAPPENING?!”). You were a wiggle worm afterward, probably making your feelings about that icy water known (“What was THAT?!”) I know, Baby, I know. It was horrible the first time I went in, almost pleasant the second time, and, well, bearable the third time. Still, it was somewhat exhilarating to go in the lake on September 27th, the fall foliage across the lake framing the picturesque view. Glad to have you along for the ride.


Let’s see...what else...Well, my voice now perpetually sounds like I just woke up. Maybe my nasal passages are cramped, who knows. I think I mentioned that my nose suddenly changed shape about a month ago? I woke up one morning, looked in the mirror, and thought, "WOAH. Who is that??" I’m afraid to set up voice or face recognition on my new phone because it might not recognize me when I morph back into myself. Luckily you won’t have the best eyesight right after you’re born, which means that you’ll get to know the real me.

The leaves are beginning to change, and your Mama’s favorite month is just around the corner. The colors, the crisper air, the rebirth of apples and pumpkins and cinnamon, the heart of autumn in all its glory. It was my favorite month before it was your birth month! Plus, your Papa’s birthday is the 24th, and we celebrate your Pops on the 3rd. Needless to say, October will be a big month with even more reason to celebrate. Yet again, your timing is impeccable.


See? No matter how rough everything feels, there are always bright spots.


For today, I leave you with this quote from Danny Kaye:


Life is a great big canvas, and you should throw all the paint on it you can.

You will know Danny Kaye, that’s for sure. He has the kind of spirit that makes everything better. By the way, quotations, like music, can also have a rather miraculous effect on the psyche. You’ll see and hear a lot of those at home.


Life is a great big canvas, Baby. Sometimes it looks more like a Jackson Pollock painting than anything else – like someone just threw paint on it to see what would stick. On the other hand, perhaps each line was dropped purposefully onto the canvas, flowing from whatever tools life had on hand at the moment...Either way, the canvas is yours, little one. Some days call for throwing, and some days call for flowing.


My sweet 6-plus-pounder, here’s to our week ahead. I promise: no more icy water.


Love, Your Mama


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