Note: This is the first of many weekly letters I’ll be writing to my daughter (we’ve nicknamed her Bee) each Friday. She hasn’t yet arrived, but at 40 weeks pregnant, I’m feeling the weight of her arrival (and my pelvis!). Can’t wait to meet her!
You’ve been growing in me for 40 weeks now, and is it me or have you acquired your father’s stubborn sense? Although you kick quite often (and not so gently, little one!), you’ve been camped out on my right side for months, refusing to switch positions in the slightest. Your dad hopes you move to the left side so my labor is a bit easier, but I’ll be honest – I secretly think it’s cute that you’ve staked your spot and are hammocked so comfortably. (This will come in handy when you have to camp out in the ticket line for your first concert – or wait, will they have concerts when you’re a teen? Gracious.) …
I’m getting antsy to meet you. Just this week I wrote a post about all of the crazy things I’ve been doing to occupy and distract my mind until you decide to make your grand entrance into this world. That nail salon thing? It really happened. It took nearly 5 minutes to choose a color because I knew I’d remember that moment forever. (I’m embarrassed, too, don’t worry.)
Just know that your Dad and I? We’re so thrilled to see you soon. And just a head’s up – your brother Bernie loves to steal your toys/clothes/bed, but we’ll try and get that under control when you come out. Don’t worry about a thing.
We’ll take good care of you, sweet Bee. See you soon.