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

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