Christmas Letter: 19 Weeks Pregnant

December 25, 2010

Dear Fake Baby,

I started to address this letter to something other than 'fake baby' (since, you know, you are demonstrably NOT fake), but nothing seemed to fit.  So I'm sorry.  Fake Baby you are and will be for the foreseeable future (at least until we know your sex in nine days, but who's counting?).  And if you need therapy for this moniker years from now, you can blame it all on your Dad and me.  Promise.

Merry Christmas, little one!  Over the last few days your Dad and I have both commented to each other how awesome it will be to have you around this time next year.  Because squeal!  Little people presents!  Not to mention the fact that this time next year you will be OUTSIDE of my uterus instead of inside.  That is excellent news.  I'm less excited about the transition to that stage, but lalalala I'm going to continue to ignore that for a few more months.  Ahem.

A few nights ago (around 12:30 AM on December 22, just for future Mary Frances' reference), I felt you move.  And it was DEFINITELY you.  Or some alien that has taken residence in the left side of my abdomen.  But my fingers are crossed that it was you.  For the last few weeks before I've gone to sleep, I've been lying in bed with my hands resting/pressing lightly on my lower abdomen.  And yes, this does look as weird as it sounds.  But anyways.  The point is, I've been trying to will you to move for weeks, and you have not obliged (LAME).

So anyways, right before I'd come upstairs for the night, my younger brother (your uncle Jeffrey) had asked me if I had felt you move yet; I'd told him that no, I didn't think I'd really felt you yet.  I went up to my childhood room, laid down on the double bed I slept on for eighteen years, and started talking to your Dad.  The day had been exhausting and we'd taken a late night trip from Pennsylvania to Virginia - I just wanted to go to sleep.  Out of habit, as soon as I lay down I placed my hands on my abdomen as I talked to your Dad, and within ten minutes, I had felt you move.  It was just a short little burst of movement, but I felt the impression of your little body rise up into the palm of my left hand.  A broad grin spread over my face as I interrupted whatever we were talking about and said, "I just felt the baby move."

Although you didn't move the rest of that night, I've felt you move around occasionally since then, but never when my hand is on my stomach - always when I'm sitting up or having a conversation and when it would (alas) be KIND OF AWKWARD to reach under my shirt and grope my lower abdomen.  Having proof - even if it's sporadic and still not that strong - that you're in there is just as magnificent as I hoped. I can't believe you're a little person and that somehow (again: lalalala), eventually, I'll hold you in my arms one day.  And cuddle you FOREVER.

Although I'm excited to learn whether or not you have lady parts or boy parts (by which I mean a vagina or a penis, and NO we will not be using words other than those to talk about your genitals.  Although if we could avoid using the word 'genitals' ever again, that would be great.  Ick.),  I'm most excited just to see you on the ultrasound in a week - I know you must have grown so much since we saw you last month, and I am chomping at the bit to see you again.  Because little one, to see you squirming around on that ultrasound screen on that cold November morning...oh my gosh.  Nothing compares.  I am so glad that you are ours, and that you chose us to be your parents.  We can't wait to meet you, lovey.

I love you,
Mama