Dear Baby,
Happy third trimester, little one! I’ve waited so long to arrive to this week. You’re blinking, your lungs are nearly developed, and I think I felt you hiccuping the other day. So wild.
The idea of still having three months feels a bit...daunting? Especially in this heat, with these puffy “marshmallow” feet that your Papa can’t stop laughing at and this low pelvic pain that seems to be welcoming me into this last stretch. I read somewhere that there are ligament “growth spurts,” one around the time I felt some pain about two months ago and another around now. Get ready for walking old-lady style with a belly band and compression socks! All part of the adventure of you.
We had our Spinning Babies class last week, so I have more exercises to incorporate on a regular basis – the body part of the mind-body approach. I. Am. Ready. My “baby prep” Google doc is at least looked at, if not tweaked or updated, most days: your Mama, the planner and organizer...And, oh! You officially have a crib, ready and waiting for you. That felt like a momentous occasion. Endless strings of rom-com montages waltzed to sappy music in my mind, except this time I was living it, not just dreaming about a future it.
This week felt extra special because we entered the third trimester on our third wedding anniversary. Yet again, what magical timing of it all. Synchronicity. How could it not be meant to be? You are truly a special one, just waiting until your time, aligning with us every step of the way.
By the way, your Papa just woke up and said, “I can’t WAIT until she’s old enough to draw with crayons and say, ‘Here, Papa! I made this for your anniversary!’ and [chuckling] I’ll say, ‘Oh!...Oh!....That’s nice!” Do you hear him talking to you with his head really close? He does it a lot.
He and I treated ourselves to our first takeout in honor of our special day, and I had my first crab cakes in five months. We were going to celebrate times two by ordering from a French place a few days later, in honor of the planned Paris trip we didn’t get to take this spring...but we decided that we needed more of what we ordered a few days before. I repeat: no crab cakes for five months. It’s one of your Mama’s favorite foods, so I have some serious making up to do.
We might just have to order that takeout every few weeks. We’ve been so, so careful in this Brave New World, ordering groceries online, staying out of, well, all buildings – with the exception of doctors' offices. But, you know, I think we can create space for crab cakes. And cornbread! How could I forget the cornbread?! I can’t remember the last time I had cornbread, and after having it this week, I just had to buy cornmeal and make my own. That’s pretty much how your Mama rolls these days, probably because of you: each week brings a new culinary “must.”
Your Mima brought us flowers and a homemade chocolate cake. It was her first time making this cake with ingredients approved by your Mama, meaning ingredients that she, the baker extraordinaire, isn’t used to using, and it was the most picture-perfect cake. She said it was a throwback to our hazelnut torte wedding cake. Your Mima is truly amazing. (More on her later, just you wait.) How lucky we all are. You probably have a sense already, but it will really sink in later.
Anyway, that was three paragraphs about food, so let’s move on, shall we?
Your Papa and I also exchanged gifts. Because this year was the year of leather, he got me a small “doodad holder” with engraved numbers of years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, and seconds we’ve been married.
I got him a compass in a leather case, with the Robert Frost poem The Road Not Taken, which I had forgotten is one of his favorite poems. Of course it is. It so perfectly describes him and us, which is why I chose it.
He bought me a stethoscope to listen to your heartbeat. We’ve tried it twice, to no avail. Your little heart is so tiny in size (though ginormous in spirit), and you like to move a lot. We’ll keep trying!
I played him a song rewrite: his favorite song from La La Land. City of Stars became Three Happy Years. Each year, I try to choose a song that represents that year – typically a song that he likes to listen to on repeat. Every time I play the piano, he requests City of Stars, so it was a no-brainer.
He said his gifts weren’t as good as mine, but he always gives such thoughtful gifts, your Papa. It’s one of the many things that makes him so special. As I wrote in his song, “Thank the luckiest stars…”
I'll wrap up with some good material we read to you this week. First, one of my favorite poems from Where the Sidewalk Ends:
Listen to the MUSTN'TS, child,
Listen to the DON'TS
Listen to the SHOULDN'TS
The IMPOSSIBLES, the WONT'S
Listen to the NEVER HAVES
Then listen close to me –
Anything can happen, child,
ANYTHING can be
Anything can be.
We also read you a very special book that was new to both of us: Wish. It’s kind of the story of us – waiting and wishing for you, our spirit baby, coming in your own time. And now you’re on your way. Every time I have the slightest twinge of...uncertainty?...especially when I haven’t felt you move in awhile, you reach out with some body part, a tiny blip of “Hello! I’m here!” You remind me that there’s nothing to worry about. After all, you’re already here, waiting until it’s your time to meet us.
We're ready.
Love, Your Mama