Dear Toot,

You have gotten a reprieve until Sunday evening/Monday morning.  But if you aren't here by then, we are kicking you out.

I have to tell you the truth - I was pretty freakin' upset to find out that I may need to be induced.  The person who talked to me on Tuesday left me a little confused and a lot frustrated and a whole lot scared.  But today, we got to see the other midwife at the office, and she made me feel a LOT better.  She explained everything and empathized and reassured me, and I am now mostly ok with whatever happens.  (On a side note, she also stripped my membranes today, to see if we can kick things into gear.  Be very, very happy that no one will ever do that to you because it is just awful.)

I guess I got so anxious about the birth process that I forgot what it's all about.  You!  Whatever happens - whatever goes wrong or doesn't go according to plan - we will still get to see you and your fat, squishy little face soon.  I can't wait for that.

That said, though, I just wanted to share a little list with you:

THINGS FOR WHICH YOU ARE GROUNDED WHEN YOU COME OUT

1. Making me vomit in public

2. Almost 10 months of heartburn

3. I sneezed, and it made me pee on myself

4. Excessive tardiness

5. That week of lower back agony

6. Making pickles stop tasting as good

7. 30 years old is either way too young or way too old to pee in the bed

8. Back pimples

9. Constipation

10. Making me cry during such non-tear-worthy TV broadcasts as a baseball game and an episode of "Overhaulin'"

So, no parties and no allowance for several months after you show up.  Sorry, buddy.  You brought this upon yourself. 

If you're curious, here is one more list for you:

THINGS I WILL DO WHEN I AM NOT PREGNANT ANYMORE

1.  Glass of the Moët in the fridge

2. Rare fillet

3. Runny eggs

4. Raw sushi

5. Sleep on my back

6. Guinness

7. Change the cat litter (not excited, but it's probably my turn by now)

8. Start running again (once I get the ok)

9. Ungodly hot bath (again, once I get the ok)

10. Pinch, poke, cuddle, tickle, and generally play with chubby baby

I can't wait to meet you.  It's coming soon!

Love,

Mom

41 weeks, 4 days in the oven

P.S. you are the size of a pumpkin.  I am officially terrified.

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Dear Toot,

Well, it will probably come as no surprise to you to learn that I am still pregnant with you.  The doctors want to induce on Friday (tomorrow), if you haven't shown up yet.

That's looking increasingly likely.  I won't deny that I am a little disappointed.  I really wanted to let nature take its course, but we are creeping up on 42 weeks, and most doctors don't recommend going beyond that.  So, I am trying to accept that my plans will have to change.  Either way, we'll get to meet you soon, and that's the important part.  But, y'know, if you wanted to surprise us and come on out, I wouldn't mind.  =D

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Dear Toot,

I guess you already know this, but you haven't come out yet.  Your due date was yesterday.  You are the size of a small pumpkin.  I think that's an appropriate size for making your exit/entrance, don't you?

I have enjoyed carrying you around for these past 9ish months, but pregnancy has lost a little of the shiny lately.  I have started my leave from work, so I'm pretty bored right now.  I have cleaned everything possible, so I don't have a lot else to do.  Also, it's gotten pretty uncomfortable to be in any position, even if that position is lying down.

Oh, and here's a nice gem - I was hoping you'd come out before I had a chance to share this one.  It goes under the heading of "Things for Which You Are Grounded As Soon As You Come Out."  The other night, I was lying in bed, and I got really excited because I thought my water had broken.  Turns out, I just peed on myself.  Now, Toot, you reach a certain age at which you say to yourself, "barring any unfortunate illness, I have probably wet the bed for the last time for the next 60 or 70 years."  It is really upsetting to be proven wrong, then have to wash your sheets in the middle of the night.

I am being bombarded by phone calls and messages asking if you are here yet.  I want to tell them yes, little buddy.  I really want to see you in person.  We are all ready.  I have tried lots of suggestions for getting labor started, but nothing has worked yet.  I will keep you updated.

Love,

Mom

40 weeks, 2 days in the oven

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Dear Toot,

I haven't written in quite some time.   I am very sorry.  I don't know what to say to excuse myself except that Christmas and New Year's are very busy times.  Today, you are the size of a mini watermelon.

Right now, we are all just sort of waiting around for you to show up.  As far as I can tell, everything is ready for you.  Your room isn't perfect, but you won't be sleeping in there for a while anyway.  So, any time you want to show up, we are ready!

I have been off work for a couple of weeks, just to relax and prepare, but my leave officially starts Monday.  I have to go back to work 6 weeks after that, so please do start thinking about showing up.  The hospital bag is all packed and ready to go.

I am half impatient for you to get here and half terrified of things starting.  Please don't wait on account of my mild terror.  I will get over it as soon as you start to come.  Your Dad really wants to meet you (so do I)!  We hope to see you soon.

Love,

Mom

39 weeks, 4 days in the oven

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Dear Toot,

this week, my handy phone app tells me that you're the size of a crenshaw melon. I have no freakin' clue what a crenshaw melon is. Neither does your Dad, and he's a chef! Last week, you were comparable to a honeydew. That was easier to understand.

We're only 27 days away from your estimated due date, and I have to say -- I'm ready for you to come on out. This week, we've crossed into the phase of pregnancy that involves me being really uncomfortable pretty much all the time. I don't sleep well. I wake up and have to flip over once or twice in the night. I can't really bend over anymore. Standing up from sitting is pretty difficult and awkward. I've also started getting a lot of foot cramps and leg cramps -- weird, hip-level leg cramps. Now, I know, I have no room complaining about being uncomfortable. At least I get to move around in a virtually limitless space. You, on the other hand, are squeezed into a cramped little area with barely any room to move. It'll be better for both of us when you are born.

You had your THIRD party last week. My friends at Drinking Liberally gave us a baby shower, and you got some sweet loot. We are now only 3 diapers away from having all 24! You also got a fleecy Gamecocks outfit. We are an unaffiliated household in the great USC vs. Clemson war, but I guess your allegiance got decided for you. (However, you also have some bright orange diapers, so really, you could go either way).

Hmm... what else is new? I guess you should know that you are still wreaking havoc on my hormones. Emotionally, I am just a mess. I am alternately grumpy, snarky, weepy, maudlin... it's exhausting just keeping up with myself. I've never been exceptionally emotionally stable (to say the least), but this is a new level of volatility for me.

I've been packing up our hospital bag. Last night, I got a little misty-eyed because I washed some of your little clothes for the first time before I packed them. For some reason, it got me really sentimental to be packing up your things... like you're this little person, and you have your own stuff. So far, you've just hung out inside me, and we've shared "stuff." But in approximately 27 days, you'll be an independent little person, who needs more than my womb to keep you safe and warm and happy. You'll need little outfits, little blankets and socks and hats... you'll need your own little THINGS.

I am going to pack the very first toy I ever bought for you. It's a blue teddy bear I got at O.P. Taylor's on Main Street. I told you about all the initial freaking out I did when we found out we were pregnant. Well, that bear marks the moment when I began to move from petrified to excited. I was sitting at work one day, and I found myself thinking about you (not surprising, since that's all I've done since the day in May when we found out). I started to think about how totally awesome it was that you suddenly existed, where a few weeks before, you hadn't. I found myself picturing you, and slowly, you stopped being something that scared me and started to be something I loved. It was a wonderful revelation, and after that moment, I just wanted to give you things, to give you everything. I realized that there were going to be all kinds of things that we'd buy you before you showed up, but I wanted the first thing to be something simple, something soft and warm and comforting. So I went down to the toy store and picked out the bear.

It's blue, but I didn't know yet that you were a boy. I just really liked the blue bear, and I hoped you would too, no matter what sex you turned out to be. I want it to be the first present you get from your parents -- a sort of promise that, no matter how strange and scary it may be to be parents, we will always take care of you and give you what you need (no matter what it costs us).

On a lighter note, we toured the OB at the hospital, and I found out that you can play music in the labor rooms. As I announced to all my Facebook friends, I am trying to figure out how to time it so you are born to "Eye of the Tiger." I think that maybe your Dad thinks I'm kidding...

Can't wait to meet you!

Love,
Mom

36 weeks, 2 days in the oven

Dear Toot,

you are officially the size of a cantaloupe! (Last week, you were a pineapple. Sorry I missed it. We were busy with Thanksgiving cooking and travelling).

Everything is going well. We had a doctor visit last Friday, and you are still right on track. I didn't much care for the doctor we saw, though, so if you could try not to show up when she's on rotation, I'd appreciate it. We'd really rather you came when either Dr. Gower or Dr. Price was on rotation, if it's not too much trouble.

I got a little stressed out this week. We thought we'd finished paying what we owed for your delivery, but apparently, it was just the OB-GYN portion. We got a letter from the hospital with an estimate of what we will have to pay them. It's astonishing how expensive it is to have a baby, even if you have decent insurance!

Now, don't get me wrong, buddy. We don't begrudge you a penny of the money it will cost to get you into this world. We can afford it, and once we see you, we won't have a thought for anything at all except how totally rad you are. But it really upsets me. You see, there are countries in this world where families don't have to pay doctor bills at all. They can just focus all their energy on being joyful and getting ready to welcome their little people into life. Here, though, it really can be a financial burden for some folks. I couldn't help thinking about all those poor families who DON'T have the money for those gigantic hospital bills -- those families who fall into that uncomfortable range between being able to afford good insurance and qualifying for assistance. It's a travesty that any family should have to worry about money in such a beautiful, exciting time. This is part of why your mother votes the way she does, and it's why I get so worked up about politics. I want the world to be a better place for you (and for me!) I don't want you to have to worry about how to provide the basics of life for your family. I think certain things like housing, food, and healthcare are human rights, not privileges that have to be earned.

But, as far as these doctor bills go, there's really nothing to be done about it. They are realities of life in this country right now, so of course, we will take care of them. Instead of worrying about it anymore, I went out and bought a toy for our office's Toys for Tots drive. I figured, since we DO have the money to pay the bills, I should focus my energy on all the less fortunate little babies who won't be as spoiled as you are guaranteed to be (just ask your grandparents). Really, the gift was from you too, so if you're curious, it was a game - Apples to Apples, Jr. I've never played the junior version, but the grownup version is one of my favorites, and I hope you will play it with me and your father someday.

I just realized today that I only have 15 more days of work until my leave starts! It's getting so close. You are due for a landing 5 weeks from tomorrow. We can't wait to meet you. You are getting the hiccups a lot lately. It's pretty amusing.

Love,
Mom

34 weeks, 7 days in the oven