Saturday, June 2, 2012

Dear Baby, June 2, 2012

Dear Baby,
  It's been awhile since Mom or I have written (let's face it. I've not written yet, although you have been on my mind). A lot of things have happened since Mom's last post, so I'll bring you up to speed.
  You have been kicking Mom in the ribs everyday for the last three weeks. You've become so strong that I can feel you. Earlier this week, I woke up early for work. I placed my hand on Mom's belly, and you kicked. I pressed down, and you responded to the pressure. We played like that for several minutes, and I felt closer to you than before. I kept thinking of Billy Madison, when Adam Sandler says, "He's going to be a soccer player." Maybe you will be, but for now, take it easy on Mom. You're kicking/punching her ribs with such force, that you might break a rib.
  You are quickly growing. The doctors thought Mom had a problem with her placenta, which means she visits a specialist every four weeks. They were wrong, but the plus is we get to see you. Last visit, the ultrasound tech and Mom saw you suckling. You are currently two gestational weeks ahead of schedule. So, you can either be a big baby, or you're coming early. Either way, come safe. You have one more trimester to fatten up.
  Child, you are also taking over apartment space. Since we last wrote, Mom found a nice stroller/car seat combo. When she picked me up from work, there they were: the car seat fastened in the back, and the stroller in the trunk. It was a new experience taking out the seat. It was a brief preview to upcoming events. This is the rest of my life, I thought, struggling to get the stroller out, while balancing the car seat. The only things missing was a diaper bag loaded with stuff, and you. I'm not complaining. It's just new.
  Coupled with these is a mini-crib your mom and I built. The crib was part of Mom's Mother Day/Birthday extravaganza, but we waited until after Uncle Dan and Aunt Fleming's wedding to build it. It is now placed next to our bed, on Mom's side. It is another reminder that you are coming. It's almost a sad confession that it takes furniture and accessories to remind me, but in my defense, I don't live with you inside me 24/7. At one time, I thought of you abstractly, but each day you become more and more real to me. I love talking to you. When Mom and I found your name, I whispered it to you, and you responded. I hope you like your name as much as we do. We love you very much. Keep growing, and we'll see you in a few weeks.

Love,
  Dad

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