Hey you! Yes you! Look at your mother when she’s talking to you! She loves you, you know. Unconditionally – and she doesn’t even know if you’re a girl or a boy and she and your dad haven’t decided what to name you and if you’re into clothes you will be horrified at how little clothes she has bought to see you through the first couple of weeks.
11 days, baby of mine (BOM), 11 days. The waiting is crucial. You’re moving around inside of me and on one hand I look forward to this being over and me regaining control over my stomach and on the other hand I realise that when I can’t feel you on the inside any longer, it is because you have come out.
You and I have a lot of fun these days, don’t we BOM? We go swimming and that day a couple of weeks ago, when the lifeguard asked me if I had washed my hair before jumping into the pool, you laughed your little head of inside of me, didn’t you? I still don’t believe that I can now write “have been approached by lifeguard regarding whether hair had been washed or not” on my list of experienced things. But the water does us good and we have gone since. You make people smile, the old ladies in particular, and you make your mother proud. I can’t wait to introduce you to the water for real, to see your happy face when you’re flowing around. I know you’re only half me, but even with just half of my water joy you’ll love it, I am sure.
We have been eating a lot of ice cream lately you and I. I freaked out when it looked as if this might be affecting my weight, but then you and I stuffed ourselves at a wedding and ate some of your dad’s birthday cake and the numbers suddenly looked much better, so I am thinking we will go for an ice cream treat in the sun later today. Also, the midwife told me to try and eat more two weeks ago when we were at our check-up so that I would have some fat to shed while breastfeeding you in the near future. Bring on (more) butter and cheese, thank you. And cream for the strawberries.
Speaking of strawberries. They have upset me lately. I don’t care for the foreign ones, but the ones grown here where we live are starting to surface now – ripe, round and red. I have read that strawberries and chocolate are not very good when breastfeeding and this makes me wonder why people choose to have children in the summer time? I wanted you to be a winter child just like myself, but I didn’t get to decide and once you were finally there I didn’t dream (and I still don’t) of holding against you that you will be born in the summer. But back to the strawberries and the chocolate. I asked our house doctor, your aunt, my sister-in-law, and she said that she had always thought “rules” like these were made by people who wanted strawberries and chocolate to themselves, and she encouraged me to just dive in. Will do so, BOM, will do so.
You’re next BOM, do you know that? Our due date is the next in line. The four kids we were waiting for before you were allowed to come out, have all come out. 2 boys, 2 girls. And the wedding we had to attend before you were allowed to come out, we have attended. All that is left now is the waiting (and then maybe navigating a little so you don’t come on Tuesday, because even if he is really excited to meet you, your cousin would like to have his birthday to himself).
I can’t wait to meet you, BOM, can’t wait to meet you.
See you soon?