Dear Baby,
Yesterday, your dad and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary. We spent the day lazing around, then drove to Elk Rapids and stopped at farm stands along the way. In the evening, we had a delicious and indulgent dinner at a restaurant downtown, then came home and watched the almost complete first season of Flight of The Conchords while clutching our full stomachs and snuggling on the couch. It was perfect.
And I guess that's all I have to report today. I spent the day working on the store and trying not to eat everything in the refrigerator. I also made our first doctor's appointment. Can't wait to hear the doctor tell me you're officially growing in there.
Until my next letter, all my love,
Your mama
Monday, October 19, 2009
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Dear Baby:
Your dad and I went out with our friends, Nick and Allison, last night and told them about you. They were so excited. It was the first time either of us said anything about you to anyone, but we're going to a birthday party tonight and I suspect we'll say something there, too. It feels good to share you with the people we love ... like instead of being something that's just happening to your dad and I, it's something happening to all of us as a community. After all, you will meet all these people one day. They will be your aunts and uncles and friends and cousins and grandparents. They're a really good group, Baby. I'm glad they will be your family.
Allison made me feel a million times better about some things I was worried about. We live in a tiny house, Baby. It's not so tiny that you can't be an infant here, but once you're mobile, who knows? And we're pretty poor. Not so poor that we're only eating Ramen, but poor enough that we won't be taking a vacation anytime soon. But Allison was full of suggestions (Cosleeper! Cloth diapers! Hand-me-downs! Showers!) and made me feel as if we had nothing to worry about.
I'd like to think Allison's right and things will be just fine. Because she's been through it before, of course, but also because from now on, I want to be optimistic about our family's circumstances. What good does constant worrying do any of us, right?
And with that, I'm off to Target to buy some clothes my belly can grow into.
Until my next letter, all my love,
Your Mom
Your dad and I went out with our friends, Nick and Allison, last night and told them about you. They were so excited. It was the first time either of us said anything about you to anyone, but we're going to a birthday party tonight and I suspect we'll say something there, too. It feels good to share you with the people we love ... like instead of being something that's just happening to your dad and I, it's something happening to all of us as a community. After all, you will meet all these people one day. They will be your aunts and uncles and friends and cousins and grandparents. They're a really good group, Baby. I'm glad they will be your family.
Allison made me feel a million times better about some things I was worried about. We live in a tiny house, Baby. It's not so tiny that you can't be an infant here, but once you're mobile, who knows? And we're pretty poor. Not so poor that we're only eating Ramen, but poor enough that we won't be taking a vacation anytime soon. But Allison was full of suggestions (Cosleeper! Cloth diapers! Hand-me-downs! Showers!) and made me feel as if we had nothing to worry about.
I'd like to think Allison's right and things will be just fine. Because she's been through it before, of course, but also because from now on, I want to be optimistic about our family's circumstances. What good does constant worrying do any of us, right?
And with that, I'm off to Target to buy some clothes my belly can grow into.
Until my next letter, all my love,
Your Mom
Friday, October 16, 2009
Dear Baby:
Yesterday morning I peed on the second stick in the e.p.t. box and, like the first, it told me that I'm pregnant with you. I just made a doctor's appointment to make sure, but I know you're there ... a little clump of cells, dividing at a rate so rapid, growing inside me ... while I sit here and drink (caffeine free) tea and wonder what you'll look like.
Your dad is so excited about you, as am I. But we are both terrified of you, baby (little old you, no bigger than a grain of rice). You see, you are growing in the belly of a worrier married to another worrier, and for that, I apologize in advance. Please know that if we ever worry, it's not because we don't trust you, but because we think we're not doing the best we can for you. For example, last night I had a bowl of cheese popcorn for dinner. Granted, I followed it up with an apple and a prenatal vitamin, but still. Sometimes I feel like I'm failing you already. I have to get over that.
Speaking of not failing, as soon as I took that first test, I quit smoking. To tell you the truth, I don't miss it. And any time I think I do, I think of you growing there and I don't want a cigarette anymore. It's ridiculous that it took a person growing in me to make me quit, but at least I've done it. Don't ever smoke. It's really bad for you and it makes you feel bad about yourself most of the time.
There are so many things I want to tell you, baby. I have so many feelings, concerns and questions that most of the time, I feel like I'm going to explode. Last night, your dad came home from work to find me sobbing uncontrollably. Poor guy. I'll tell you this at least a hundred times before you're born and a million times after: Your dad is a wonderful person. You're pretty lucky to be getting a dad like him.
Right now, though, I just want you to know that I not only feel like I'm growing you, but I feel like you're growing me up. My life has changed dramatically (for the better) in these last four days and for that, my tiny one, I thank you.
Until my next letter, all my love,
Your mom
Yesterday morning I peed on the second stick in the e.p.t. box and, like the first, it told me that I'm pregnant with you. I just made a doctor's appointment to make sure, but I know you're there ... a little clump of cells, dividing at a rate so rapid, growing inside me ... while I sit here and drink (caffeine free) tea and wonder what you'll look like.
Your dad is so excited about you, as am I. But we are both terrified of you, baby (little old you, no bigger than a grain of rice). You see, you are growing in the belly of a worrier married to another worrier, and for that, I apologize in advance. Please know that if we ever worry, it's not because we don't trust you, but because we think we're not doing the best we can for you. For example, last night I had a bowl of cheese popcorn for dinner. Granted, I followed it up with an apple and a prenatal vitamin, but still. Sometimes I feel like I'm failing you already. I have to get over that.
Speaking of not failing, as soon as I took that first test, I quit smoking. To tell you the truth, I don't miss it. And any time I think I do, I think of you growing there and I don't want a cigarette anymore. It's ridiculous that it took a person growing in me to make me quit, but at least I've done it. Don't ever smoke. It's really bad for you and it makes you feel bad about yourself most of the time.
There are so many things I want to tell you, baby. I have so many feelings, concerns and questions that most of the time, I feel like I'm going to explode. Last night, your dad came home from work to find me sobbing uncontrollably. Poor guy. I'll tell you this at least a hundred times before you're born and a million times after: Your dad is a wonderful person. You're pretty lucky to be getting a dad like him.
Right now, though, I just want you to know that I not only feel like I'm growing you, but I feel like you're growing me up. My life has changed dramatically (for the better) in these last four days and for that, my tiny one, I thank you.
Until my next letter, all my love,
Your mom
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)