Saturday, March 26, 2011


Dear Sprout,

This week you're about the size of a prune. I'm not entirely impressed by that fact. I think they could have found something else to compare you to than a shriveled fruit that makes people poop. Though, considering the symptoms lately, it's actually a pretty good reminder.

This week has been pretty great outside of the normal symptoms that make me feel bad... if you don't count my incredible hormonal rage. Your poor, poor father really has taken the brunt of my anger and while some of it has been (seemingly) justifiable at times, the passionate frenzy that I work myself into really isn't. Hopefully, he'll read this and accept our apology. I'd try to vocalize my honest regret but I'm afraid I'd just growl.

We had another ultrasound this week and what do you know? You're still totally there and getting bigger! You look vaguely like a baby with a head and a body and stuff. You were about 1.3 inches on the screen so we are right on track for 10 weeks. Your heart rate was a nice 169 bpm which has caused the theories to fly. There is now an assumption based on old wives' tales that you are a girl and I may regret saying this later, but it's my secret hope that you are. Dresses and pigtails notwithstanding, our dude has referred to you as his daughter which makes my heart all explode-y. His secret wish is to have his daughter end up on a Magic pro tour. One thing is certain, baby, you're going to be a nerd.

I'm working on a playlist of songs to start playing for you soon. I know they say you start hearing at about 25 weeks, but I have such varied tastes I figure I should start now. All the books and internets say I should play you classical music and I will, but you also need some Jenny Lewis and Beatles and Heartless Bastards and Lady Gaga. Well-rounded, I say. We're not snooty folks. Sorry to all the perfect Mozart moms, but our kid will rock to some Who if he or she feels like it.

We've started to discuss your life and future in less abstract terms. Things we know: we want you to be well-rounded in all aspects of your life. We want you to play sports if you want to (not soccer particularly, but we aren't pushing any agenda), but we want to instill a love of music and art, as well. We want you to take an interest in the world and everything it has to offer. Your father is interested in introducing you to all the religions of the world. I want to help you explore your creativity.

Of course, we haven't made a decision about diapering. We are clearly more long-term thinkers. We'll probably regret that when you're peeing all over the couch and floor because we never did decide on cloth or disposable.

We're feeling really good, you and me. I think we're going to make it through this.

Much love and nausea,
Your mama

Sunday, March 20, 2011

This Week We Became a Fetus

Dear Sprout,

Baby, we trudged through this past week with a lot of stomach upset and some low morale. The good news is that this week, you are officially a fetus about the size of a green olive. The idea of that somehow really creeps me out. You are so small and so alive and just hanging out in there.

We spent the week still looking for a place to bring you home to. We've run into quite a few snags mostly involving budget, location, and my past.* We did seem to find a place and we're still waiting for the final word, but it should be nice and safe and out of our budget. You can thank your nana for that. (The place to live, not the out of our budget part. We handled that all on our own, thanks.)

This week has been a tiring one. I promise you, we will sleep on Sunday. While the corned beef is in the crockpot for dinner, you and me and the furnace dog will take a long, leisurely nap.

We've been doing pretty good with the eating (minus last night's All-American Jack... I couldn't help myself). I have been increasingly craving meat of all sorts. Breakfast, lunch, dinner... I want protein. The walk to and from work downtown goes past steak places and a BBQ place and the simple smell of that charred flesh sends me into absolute hunger pangs complete with salivation. Hopefully, this means we won't have any anemia issues later on down the road.

We did find out that I am a carrier of cystic fibrosis. I have to say, for some reason, I am just really not overly concerned. I guess I should be, but for you to have cystic fibrosis both your father and I would have to be carriers, and even then it's only a 25% chance. And kid, you have overcome a lot of odds (namely a Nuvaring) and I just have a deep down gut feeling, you'll beat these odds, too. We're going to get your dad tested so we can be prepared, just in case.

I know it's still too early, but a part of me can't wait to get your bedroom set up. We're going to have it set up so that your nini can come stay a month with us after you make your debut. We are so looking forward to her visit. We know we are going to need all hands on deck to get us prepared for your arrival and for getting used to life with three.

Next week makes 10 weeks and the halfway point until the big ultrasound. We have our next doctor's appointment at 11 weeks and I'm hopeful we will have nothing but good news and maybe even get to hear your heartbeat or see you again.

I don't know how people can't stand to wait so long to meet their babies. I am completely unable to contain myself when I start to wonder who you are going to be.

We look so forward to meeting you, kiddo.

All of my love,
Your mama

*I promise you kid, I will always be a champion you for you. I want you to be a strong person who is always able to stand up for themselves and to recognize a hurtful person. I will always make sure you understand your own self-worth and I will fight like hell to make sure no one ever takes advantage of you or disrespects you. It will be the fight of my life and I am privileged to be able to do it for you.

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Dear Sprout (8 Weeks)

Dear Sprout,

This week sure has brought a flurry of activity that has revolved a lot about you.

This week, we had our first doctor's appointment to learn more about you and how you're doing in there. In order to do so, I was clinically invaded by a most lewd looking ultrasound machine. It was pretty uncomfortable but your father and I got to see you... existing. You were eight weeks that Tuesday with a strong heart we got to see beating on that monitor.

Looking at you and seeing that movement of life on the screen, the dude and I experienced very powerful, intense emotions.

I finally knew what a miracle was and I felt incredibly lucky to have this chance to help you grow and become an interesting, fantastic, beautiful new person. A chance, I very recently was afraid I'd never have.

Your father's tears were ones of sheer, unadulterated panic. You are real. This is not a hoax and, oh baby, are you ever going to be expensive.

We also decided to make your existence public, however prematurely etiquette would tell us to do so. You'll learn, we aren't the type to keep secrets from those we love. You included, I'm sure. Your life will be one of much TMI. There was such an outpouring of love from family, friends and strangers alike that we were overwhelmed by all of their support in a time of great uncertainty.

We've begun to make you a priority in our decision making. We've decided to postpone our September wedding in hopes that those that we love and that love us so great to come spend that day with us will get a chance to meet you, after your birthday in October.

We are apartment hunting and you are a major decision maker. We may not be able to afford the best neighborhood, but you are causing us to pick a place with a space for you and things that will make all three of our lives easier when you come around. We're considering the dog, also. We do expect that to be a strange rivalry between you and the small, naked dog.

We got dumped by my OB, because she believes I am too overweight to have a safe, healthy pregnancy. This happened without her knowing any of my history or anything of my love for you already. I was angry at first, but I realized I don't want a doctor helping to bring you into this world that has so little respect for us both. We have an appointment with a midwife on the other side of town, but I have faith that we will do this and we will do this right.

This week, you've been about the size of a raspberry and such great havoc you can wreak. My boobs still hurt in the most ridiculous fashion; I am constantly tired and nauseous. Food has begun to taste differently. It's miserable and overwhelming.

But kid, you are so wanted, by so many. Stick around. I promise we'll have more fun than you can imagine.

With all of my love,
Your mama-to-be