Dear Baby, You are amazing FULL STOP

Wednesday, Aug. 30:

Dear Belly Bean,

How do you do it?

You haven’t even been born yet, and I’m already amazed by your abilities.

First of all, surviving inside my body. Not just surviving, but growing. Maybe even thriving. I can’t imagine you’re too comfortable in there. Heaven knows I’m uncomfortable with you in there. You have made yourself right at home. You’ve even remodeled the place and made it your own.

But still, I’m amazed at what you’ve had to put up with. I have tried to be good and healthy and not send a lot of chemicals down your way. I mean, I didn’t smoke or drink, and I’ve foregone OTC medicines except antacids. (Except for that unfortunate cellulitis incident, when I had to take antibiotics so you wouldn’t get infected, too.) I took good vitamins for you. But life is what it is, and every once in a while, I just had to have some caffeine. I had my (greatly reduced) share of artificial sweeteners. I’m pretty sure I ate trans fats, and enjoyed it. Someday, I hope you’ll understand....

Also, the sleeping positions. My sitting and bending positions. That time I moved all those rocks in the garden. That time in the Bahamas when I got overheated. All those times I forgot just how far you were making my stomach stick out, and I accidentally bumped into something -- or your dad bumped into you/me. I tried to make it easy on you, but sometimes it just wasn’t possible. I hope you aren’t worse for the wear.

And let’s not forget all those strange people spying on you. The numerous ultrasounds. Listening to your little heart beating. Now people are reaching in every week and touching your head. Doesn’t it drive you crazy?! A doctor told me you act as though you don’t like that kind of thing, and I’m sorry. It’s just one of those things you have to put up with in life. I won’t tell you about some of the things that are yet to come, like rectal thermometers. It’s all for your own good, and I’ll be right there with you. So don’t worry.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’ve tried to be good to you. But things happen. And you’re still alive and kicking, and I hope you’re doing OK in there. I know it won’t be long before you realize that you need more space, and you go looking for a new apartment.

Speaking of which, your dad and I have the perfect place for you. We’re like your real estate agents. We spent a lot of time making it just right for you. So when you decide to move out of my body, all you have to do is move right into the new pad. You don’t even need to pack anything. Everything’s taken care of. Sweet deal, eh? The new place should be just fine for the next 17 to 25 years, depending on your, uh, personality.

And that leads me to another thing that’s amazing about you. There are already so many people who want to meet you! Some of them are even googly-eyed over the idea of seeing you for the first time. (Those would be your grandparents, whom you’ll meet soon.) So many people have helped your dad and me set up your new place for you. Isn’t it nice to know people are happy just thinking about your existence? It will probably take several years until you can fully grasp that concept, but anyway.... I’m amazed you have this je ne sais quoi, this natural charisma, that people respond to. Not just people, but your dad and me, too!

As soon as we found out about you, we started thinking about you. We started planning for you. We started loving you! Your dad keeps wondering if you will like him. And I tell him of course you will. He is going to show you all about making and fixing things. If you ever have a problem you can’t solve, he’ll help. He’s also going to take lots of photos and videos of you with all his cameras. And me, I’m going to take you out and show you the real world: the forests, the rivers, the marshes, the reefs. We’ll have a great time exploring nature. Then we’ll come home, cook up a snack, and play some songs or read books. The three of us will have a great time together.

So when you’re ready, just let us know.

It will be amazing.

Love,

Your mom