Last night, I sang and sang to you because it just felt right. Lo and behold, you started to dance in my belly! I stopped singing, you stopped moving. I started singing, and there you went, again!
We've had some quiet, garden days, haven't we? I've stopped listening to people's advice on how to make you "come out" sooner, faster, induce labor...you will know when you're ready. All that I might have missed had I kept sitting around, just waiting...we're still participating with each other!
Love you so much, and dad...oh, dad has so many plans for you. Many which involve lots of exasperated sighs and eye-rolling from mom. But all good fun--I can't wait to see what kind of buddies you turn out to be!
You've dropped, lots of false labor...any time now, eh, little Brellow?
They say that the closer to the due date, the less movement. Well, little man, you certainly have proven them wrong! And, we know that you really, really don't like having your heartbeat listened to--the nurse last week said you were ornery. I love it. Are you already aware? Certainly, I hope to not train out of you the immediate expression of your feelings on things. Beautiful baby. My little fish.
Dad has been murmuring the promise of sandwiches to you in the evening. You and your dad, sitting together, munching and having a talk about your day. I look forward to that, my guy.
Our guy! Soon, dad will be able to hold you, as well!
I write to you, little Baby B, but it seems more and more I write to you in my journal, and not here...
Is it because holding a pen feels more intimate than typing in between emails? You've been kicking so much, lately--I'm so aware of your presence that we have lots of audible conversations. Lucky that dad doesn't think (or expresses aloud) how crazy this might be, but I have no doubt that I am not alone in this, pregnancy-wise. How could anyone NOT talk back? (Kick) "yeah, mom--that was a good sandwich! (Kick) "Where's my drink? I'm thirsty!" How I interpret your kicks is not unlike a magic 8-ball. It depends on my mood.
The weather has warmed up quite a bit, and you really enjoyed our time outdoors yesterday! Mama's back is just killing her, but we managed some time in the lawn chair, sunbathing in that 70-degree weather, didn't we?
Soon, you can see all this for yourself, as well as the little ladybugs we've been hosteling in a jar with apple peels. They are a bit too eager for spring, but when you arrive, we'll release them together. How does that sound?
Oh, an early morning, just you and me, little fish. Your Dad had a tough weekend, and he slumbers away, which makes me glad. The house feels so good! It always feels good to be home, but the quiet time feels extra-special today.
I worked into late last night--a bit naughty, staying up until 2am, but I do that, little Brellowfish. Mama is a bit intense, sometimes--very focused. But the entire time I worked, I was aware of your presence. You refused to be ignored! You've been active and kicking for some time, now, but seeing it expressed through my belly is still amazing to me. After I went to bed, finally, you were still kicking up a storm. I put my hands on my stomach and gently pressed back. And you responded in kind...kick! Kick!
Sometime after 32 weeks, the midwife said that Dad may be able to hear your heartbeat using a toilet paper tube. For fun, he tried, yesterday. No heartbeat, but when he removed the tube and put his ear to my belly, there you were, again! Kicking, as if to say, "Yes, I know you're out there! I can't wait!" Or maybe, "Hey, this is MY space!"
Who knows--you'll have to tell us, sometime. My gosh, we can't wait to meet you.
This photo is of the full moon, the closest it has been to earth in 15 years. As a moon in general, that is.
The next time this happens, you'll be 7 years old. It will be November. You might see your breath if we're outside, viewing it. It might be cold. At any rate, I hope I remember this event in 8 years...
And maybe I'll be able to hold your hand for a moment while we look, before your dad fascinates you with the inner workings of a telescope.
Hi there, my little guy. I've been thinking about you a lot lately. Actually, I'm always thinking about you--I wonder if your dad is tired of my knowing looks, my secret smiles, holding my belly and talking to you. But this week really marks the start of not being able to ignore you. On Sunday morning, after I rolled onto my back for a moment to stretch, your little foot or arm kicked out so hard you made the band of my pajama pants jump. Yay for you!
This is just me being me, but I hope you don't mind being this loved. I know, someday a hug from your mom and all those kisses will be something you duck away from when you're older. But. How lucky am I to have you these first years...how many years before you decide that all this adoration is a hindrance to your manliness? I will try not to count down the days in my head, and cherish each moment, each sniff of your baby head, chubby little toddler hands helping me roll dough to make bread. Little feet padding down the hall to find daddy. Oh, I'm already so teary-eyed just thinking about it. But I am so amazed to love this much.
See, here? You kicked so hard this morning, I could see the band of my pants move! I waited for you to do it again, and sure enough--you did!
You dad hasn't been sleeping well, lately, so I thought, should I wake him up? Well, of course I should. So I did, and well...you little stinker. You swam to the back of my uterus and hid there, kicking still, but out of reach from your father (oh, you sneaky smart one!).
22 weeks...you can hear fairly well, now. Maybe you will listen as we sing Happy Birthday to Daddy on Tuesday. What do you say? Are you up for some Korean food and chocolate cake?
I can't explain how my brain works, little Brellowfish, but for whatever reason, I have these flashes of you in my head--scenarios where you need me, or need something that I can't give you. One involves your Dad convincing you to beg for macaroni and cheese with mustard (tsk tsk--shame on your father). The most recent one is consoling you over your first broken heart. Oh dear...and my own broken heart because I just love you so much. But there is always going to be some pain in your life, no matter what I do, and of course, I know that when you're a teenager, you won't want to confide in mom, and even if you did, nothing I say will be able to fix it. So. If you're reading this many years later, my little guy, some advice from M. Ward that might be more consoling than a hug from your own mom, because that is just how it is sometimes:
I sailed a wild, wild sea climbed up a tall, tall mountain I met a old, old man beneath a weeping willow tree He said now if you got some questions go and lay them at my feet but my time here is brief so you'll have to pick just three
And I said What do you do with the pieces of a broken heart and how can a man like me remain in the light and if life is really as short as they say then why is the night so long and then the sun went down and he sang for me this song
See I once was a young fool like you afraid to do the things that I knew I had to do So I played an escapade just like you I played an escapade just like you I sailed a wild, wild sea climbed up a tall, tall mountain I met an old, old man he sat beneath a sapling tree He said now if you got some questions go and lay them at my feet but my time here is brief so you'll have to pick just three
And I said What do you do with the pieces of a broken heart and how can a man like me remain in the light and if life is really as short as they say then why is the night so long and then the sun went down and he played for me this song
I can't believe that we're 15 weeks along...it makes me so, so happy to picture you floating around inside of me. Sucking your wee thumb, able to sense light, now. You are a winter gestation baby, but I promise to bare my belly as much as this winter to give you all the light that I can--give your circadian rhythms a head start.
The light today is filtering through a gray sky--your father's favorite kind of sky. I can sometimes see that layer of Viking within him and I wonder if you will be the same. If you will be able to sleep with the light on, be red-orange colorblind and able to pick out animals in the woods, despite all their efforts to camoflauge themselves. If you will be like the two of us--ever so peaceful in the woods, just walking and noticing. Or maybe your daily habits will desire an urban setting, subways, buses and late nights in SoHo. Or...maybe you will be a Suburban Child (gasp! so unlike us...right now).
Whatever, whichever, wherever...my goodness, will we love you so very much. I was so afraid, before. I was afraid I wouldn't manage motherhood because of the depression and feelings of isolation. I was afraid I would try to change you into something you weren't. I was afraid you might break my heart! My childhood--while not terrible--very stifling. I wanted to talk, communicate, share, explore--I never felt I could do those things without feeling limited by what I thought I should be doing to not shame the family. To be the "right" kind of child. At some point these past few years, those fears disappeared. I found the confidence I wish I'd had earlier in life, but at the same time, what a blessing to find it at all! Child of our hearts, we will have such a good time together...I miss you already, anticipate you--
Greetings, brellowfish. Your mother has been much more active than I at this--but my late entry into this project is not a sign of disinterestedness, it is merely my way. Your mother is active, moving, creative, possessing and eminating an energy that moves things forward even when they don't realize they're sitting still. It is a powerful presence that I'm sure you'll enjoy. I'm not as fast into new things (again, not from lack of interest) and tend to think and re-think an action in a new arena, even when I would be better served by simply immersing myself in the event. When I do act, it is decisive, as you will see. Now, enough with presenting my apologies for being late to the game--but it's best you understand how we both work so that you know how to interpret us.
You have been giving me many things to smile about (aside from just your ever-nearing emergence), the most enjoyable of which is the constant cravings you are causing your mother. I like that you are often craving things that I do. Another fun event is the seemingly uncontrollable attachment that our youngest cat Sadie has to your mother now. Sadie was always a friendly and loving cat to us, but her new obsession with your mother makes us wonder if she knows you're there. Given that, in general, Sadie is not fond of people other than us, you should feel very lucky that she may already know you're on the way and decided you are an acceptable addition.
I wonder what you are thinking in there. I wonder what you'll think when you're old enough to share your thoughts--be patient, I'm sure you'll be thinking long before you can express what you're thinking, but we'll be here when you can.
