Dear Tootie,

One day, when you're old enough to appreciate the splendor that was "The Facts of Life," I will explain to you why your nickname in utero is Tootie.

You're the size of a plum now. I'm very sorry that I am starting this blog so late that you'll miss your previous progression through the fruit kingdom. I've entirely passed over poppyseed, appleseed, small pea (that's when we found out about you), blueberry, raspberry, green olive, prune, and lime. I won't lie to you. I'll be happy when you grow out of the phase where people use food items to help me visualize your size. I find it creepy.

A lot has happened already. I got to see your little arms flailing around a few weeks ago. Your father got attached to you after we heard your heartbeat at our first doctor visit, but for me, the misty eyes came when I saw your body move.

A lot of people are very excited to meet you. Your Granny and Grandpa are ecstatic. Seriously. Your grandmother Johnson calls me every day. She just bought you some clothes the other day. They're green. She wanted to go with something gender neutral, since we still don't know whether you're a boy or a girl.

Your Aunt Colette and Uncle Chuck are also thrilled, as are your honorary aunts and uncles -- Alan and Christina, Lexie and Brendan, Heidi and Sean, and Rhett and Denise. You aren't even here yet, but already everybody adores you.

Your Dad and I worry a bit -- well, mostly me. You will soon learn that your father has a very refreshing and optimistic outlook on life -- one that I hope you inherit. He always assumes that everything will work out okay in the end. And he's always right! It would be annoying if it weren't so comforting. So I worry. I worry about money, about my job (especially now... things are crazy and scary lately), about how we will raise you and if we'll do a good job.

You should know that, no matter what, we will always love you and support you and stand up for you. You are free to be whoever you want, to love whomever you want, and to pursue whatever passions you choose.

I will end for now by sharing with you a dream I had a couple of weeks ago.

I dreamt that I had you. You just fell out in my sleep. I asked your father if we had gone to the hospital, and he said that we hadn't. I was upset because I told him that we should have gone, so we could apply for your social security card and get you a birth certificate.

You were about a month early, and we didn't have your bed yet, so I had you sleeping in a Tupperware container. I remember that your body was very warm, and you were incredibly snuggly.

Chris and I went to Wal-Mart to get you a bed. (You should know that I am not, in general, a fan of Wal-Mart, but it was a dream, and I had no control over my consumer choices). While we were in the car, I asked your father where you were, and he said, "She's okay. She's with the cats." You were a girl in the dream.

I told him that I didn't think it was a good idea to leave you at home with the cats, but we continued on our trip anyway.

I share this so you will know that no matter how much we may screw you up, it could have been worse.

Can't wait to meet you!

Love,
Mom

12 weeks, 6 days