so it seems that you are now gearing up to audition for the next season of ‘so you think you can dance’. because kid, you move a lot. and not just little kicks and jabs, but full revolutions where you spin around (presumably on your head) and then i feel a flurry of hand movements like you’re conducting an orchestra. if all this is any indication of the energy you will expend when you check out of your womb room, then i need to start sleeping. like all day. every day. for the next 9 weeks. all this to say, you are definitely your papa’s child. (to this day, the majority of photos i have of your dad will just show a blurry human form because ‘stillness’ evades him). so here’s what i’m thinking, since it seems you and your papa are both equipped with boundless energy, i think your dad should be your ‘go-to guy’ for those times when you are feeling all “i’m caged in this here room!” “i need to climb walls!” “i must blaze a trail through the mall!” “i will fling myself at furniture with the full force of my little body”. and i will be the go-to for when you decide to slow your roll, when you want to curl up on the couch with blankets and read books, and lie on the grass and stare at clouds, and calmly piece together puzzles and work on craft projects. deal?
last week we visited the hospital where you will be born. that is, unless you just decide to erupt on the scene in a boardroom during one of the many long meetings we’ve been having these days, or as we’re scouring the aisles at trader joes for treats. the hospital is… well, a hospital, but what i really like about it are the super friendly and encouraging nurses that we met, and the fact that we can have our midwife deliver you, rather than a doctor. this is the ‘middle-of-the-road’ approach that we decided to take with your birth, after much research and consultation and advice and soul-searching. this option feels the most right to us, and learning about the practices of this particular hospital (big proponents of breastfeeding, low c-section rates, the baby is placed straight onto the mother’s chest after birth and the parents are given alone time etc.) were all reassuring factors. we also really like the approach of our midwife. she is experienced, practical, warm, and most importantly she is super empowering. she seems to actually care that our experience of birth is a good one and that we feel like we are in control at all times, which was unfortunately not the impression we were getting from our original doctor. it was pretty surreal as the tour ended and we realized that the next time we leave that hospital it will be with you in our arms. DID I MENTION WE CAN’T WAIT TO MEET YOU?!!
i’m sorry for the shouty all caps but our impatience about you being here, as in we-can-hold-you-here, is reaching new levels of ridiculousness. which reminds me, i should tell you about ‘larry long legs’. a few months ago we bought you this soft toy – a plush blue dog with very long legs and stripey mismatched socks. we call him ‘larry long legs’ for obvious reasons. since the day we bought him home larry keeps watch at your crib. he just sort of hangs there, with his feet dangling over the sides of your crib as he smiles wistfully off into space. occasionally your papa and i will speak in awed tones about how patient he is. “just look at larry long legs!” we’ll exclaim. “he is like the epitome of patience!” he is just waiting here for you peacefully, with his stripey socks and calm blue face. and yes, we know that this is an inanimate object, but it’s still borderline annoying – like larry is some guru setting the perfect example of serenity while we are all caps and exclamation points with our HOW MANY MORE DAYS TILL WE CAN FINALLY MEET OUR BABY?!!
even though your papa still calls you ‘nori bump’, you are definitely more than a bump these days. in fact, you are so round and protruding that you have created your own little orbit. an orbit that pulls in strangers who smile at me warmly in supermarkets and parents who give me knowing nods. small children seem to be very curious about what is going on and stare at my middle region as if it is a balloon that might, at any moment, burst open to spill out glitter and prizes. your little round home means that i now have trouble doing the most ordinary of tasks – like lacing up my boots or walking at my usual ‘let’s hustle’ speed. even my expert dish washing agility is compromised as whatever i’m wearing gets soaked due to the gap between my body and the sink. but regardless, i love the ’roundness’ that is you, and i keep wearing leggings and tight tops and try to embrace the morphing of my body because frankly, i don’t buy into the whole ‘pregnancy should be camouflaged’ school of thought. plus your papa thinks you look very becoming in stripes. :)
in recent weeks we’ve had an influx of dear friends visit us, with more to come in the next month or so. all of these lovely people will be your future fr-aunties and fr-uncles. and i’m sure you will grow to love them as much as we do. many of these friends have supported us through the greatest joys and sorrows that your papa & i have encountered throughout our lives and we regard them as our other brothers and sisters. i hope that you too foster these sorts of quality connections that last a lifetime and beyond. i hope that you are a good friend to many, and that you bring joy, and laughter to the hearts of others. and most of all, i pray that you are always surrounded by those who hold you accountable to your inherent nobility, and recognize your beautiful, bright, light.
when dev and i first found out that i was pregnant we decided that while i was in the somewhat fragile early stages, we’d keep the news pretty quiet. which was incredibly hard for both of us to do. one day dev suggested i start writing letters to ‘nori’ (devon’s codename for our baby) so that i could at least have some kind of outlet for my hard-to-contain-excitement. here are the rest: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5.