A Letter to our New Baby

Dear Baby,
By now you have been in my tummy for a little over 14 weeks.  This means that almost every day for the last 8 weeks, your sister has asked "Is our baby coming out today?"  Then we have to talk about how babies take a long time to grow and you'll be here in July, when it's hot outside.  Right now, you're about the size of a lemon, which seems gigantic when you consider that when I first downloaded the pregnancy app on my phone that compares you to produce, you were a sesame seed.

Being pregnant with you has given me a lot of interesting symptoms. My sense of smell is uncanny, which would be fun if every strong scent didn't make me feel ill. One day I was convinced that our living room smelled like Chinese food. Your father assured me I was just crazy, but I later determined it was the blanket I was using, so I tossed it in the washer immediately, disgusted that such a smell would emanate from something in my home.  He says it smells the same now as it always has, but you and I know better, don't we?

I had to go on medication from throwing up so much. I plan to use this fact to my advantage when you're a teenager and being dumb. I'm hoping to stop taking the medicine altogether soon since you are getting bigger and my hormones might be almost kind of balancing out. But don't be surprised if I'm a weeping mess the first time you see me.  This is considered normal and will likely continue sporadically for the next 18-45 years.  Just ask your sister. Yesterday I cried because she dumped a travel size container of liquid soap into her dresser drawer and I yelled, and then I felt bad for yelling, so I apologized and she gave me a hug, because she's a good kid like that.

A good kid that sometimes dumps soap into drawers. Can we just pause for a moment to think about how ridiculous that is?  Where did she even FIND travel size liquid soap? I didn't even know I owned the stuff.  At least it smelled good.

Since being pregnant with you, spaghetti is my worst enemy. Well, that and terrorists.  One night your dad made spaghetti because I was feeling horrible as usual, and your sister likes "forgetti."  I ate some, and, well...it didn't end well.  Never. Again.  Your sister will have to order it in restaurants because I'm not sure that I can ever look at the stuff again. I'm feeling a little queasy just writing about it.

It is incredibly cold outside and you are getting so big that my super warm North Face coat is almost too tight.  I tried to convince your father that this means we should move to Florida, but he disagreed on account of jobs and schools and property values and the fact that our families live close to us.

We took this picture on Christmas. I was 12 weeks pregnant and already feeling huge.

Now that I'm feeling more like a normal human, we are really getting excited for you. We don't know whether you're a boy or a girl, and we're not going to find out until you're born. I'm really nervous that someone is going to slip up and tell us during an ultrasound or something, but I figure if that's a person's job, s/he's probably pretty good at keeping secrets. I hope.  No matter whether you are a boy or girl, you will be a fun surprise.  For the record, I think you're a boy, because with your sister I loved macaroni and cheese and hated meat, and this time I hate macaroni and cheese and am slightly less grossed out by meat than I was with her. Other than this I have no actual way of knowing what you are.  Well, you're a baby...a human one, which is good.

Your dad thinks you're a girl, because before I knew I was pregnant with you, your sister kept asking "where is my sister?"  But I am certain that was only because she has just watched The Secret of the Wings, where Tinkerbell crosses over into the land of the Winter Fairies and discovers that she has a long-lost sister.

So, in conclusion, I would like for you to be a boy because I enjoy being right.  But it's okay if you're a girl, too.

I have to go because your sister is not napping and quiet time is getting to be not-so-quiet.  I'm fairly certain she is a part of some kind of illicit toddler drug ring that sells caffeine pills and pixie sticks. 

Love you, Mommy