Dear Baby

Hello Dear, it's your Mother.

I've been wanting to write this letter to you for quite some time. I just wanted to wait until we were a little closer to our due date. Well, I finally figured the heck with it. You could be coming out tonight - or you could be coming out next month. Plus, I'm wide awake at 12:30 at night... sitting on this durn ball. (I say "durn" in the most loving and endearing terms. This ball has been a gift from God - it has really helped me out these last couple of weeks.)  What better time than to write you a little letter? (Go ahead and forgive the rambling. It's been a long time since I've written anything this late at night. It's been a long time since I've seen something other than the back of my eyelids this late at night!)

Heck, I'm not even sure how to write this or what I want to say.

Here goes nothing, kid.

We have had quite a journey together, no?
You started as just a big dream and a prayer... and now you're my squirmy little buddy that REALLY hates to be poked, prodded, or squished in any way. (Which, you've gotten so big at this point that we both are constantly poked, prodded, and squished. I don't think either of us are very comfortable right now. Your Daddy laughs and calls me "Waddles." Some ladies might get mad, but I think it's funny. Plus, say "waddles" a couple times in a row and you'll see what I mean.) I know that we haven't "officially" met, but I feel like I know you a little already... like we've been really weird pen pals.

Your Daddy and I have enjoyed watching you wiggle and squirm around in my belly. (Which by the way, you TO THIS DAY have refused to allow pretty much anyone else to see! Maybe it means you'll be well behaved in public - and save your wild and crazy antics for home? haha. Either way, it makes us feel a little special... like you like and trust us the most. Maybe it's because we're the only ones that call you by your name. [Totally great decision. We've enjoyed our little secret, but I know we probably won't be able to keep any brothers or sister's names secret since you might spill the beans.]) You love your Daddy's voice and when he rubs my belly. You seem to like Freeze Pops as much as your Daddy and Chocolate as much as I do. (You always get so squirmy - in a happy way.)

You're a great listener... and you seem to be sympathetic. All of these extra hormones have made me a little extra weepy - and a whole lot extra angry and aggressive. Some days when I'm sad, the way that you wiggle and roll around feels like you're trying to tell me "It's okay, Mommy." When I'm angry you have two different reactions - depending on the level of angry. Some times you're really, really still... and sometimes you get your mad wiggles on. (I can totally tell the difference in your happy and mad wiggles. I tell people that you can be a crabby baby at times. They laugh, but I mean it. I just think that you're a whole lot like your Daddy. Not that he's crabby, it's just the same things that appear to bother you are the things that he doesn't like either.)

I sing to you a lot. I'm rather bad at it. I don't sing you any nursery rhyme type songs... I just sing songs I would normally like and would sing. Which, I informed your Father that I was going to accidentally give you a complex because of it. Pretty much, you hear an awful lot of hymns, smoking-drinking-she-done-left-me songs, 80's-90's light rock, and Christmas songs. (I'm fairly sure that you're going to think that "Pretty Paper" is a lullaby. I don't know why I picked that one to sing to you the most, but I do. It chills us both out.) But that's okay, because the first song your Daddy played you was "Gangsta's Paradise." (And he sings C.C.R. to you regularly.)
On the bright side... you should be considered well-rounded when it comes to your music.

I wish you could see how excited your Daddy is... he's so funny. He's been impatiently waiting for you to finish "cooking." Now that we're full term... shoot, your Daddy doesn't even get this excited about Christmas. I'm going to have to beat him over the head just so I can hold you once you're born.
He's even got your "Loaferin'" clothes picked out for your Saturday morning breakfast and nose-around-town-drives. (Which, we have gotten very used to going to the Bantam Chef and eating French Toast every Saturday morning... I think the people at the Bantam Chef are looking forward to seeing you tag along for some, too.)
Lately he's been trying to figure out how he's going to wrap you up in the blanket with him so the two of you can watch TV and nap together. I told him that I would just have to come in and swaddle you both up - I'd just have to push the buttons on the remote control of y'all. (He seems to be all for that idea.)

(Note: One day, you're going to be all grown up, get married, and have babies. Make sure you find a man like your Daddy. Make sure that he's excited and as good to you as your Daddy has been to me. Believe me, I have been a booger - and the man has been a saint. I love your Daddy more every day and I don't know what I would have done without him.)

We've prayed for you so much. We understand how big of a gift you are - and we pray that we raise you up to be a God-fearing, kind, loving, and happy woman... and that we don't mess you up too terribly bad.

(I also hope you're durable... I fear the "George of the Jungle" scenarios that run through my mind.)


Our bags are all packed and by the door.
Your grandparents are all waiting by the phones.
We're just waiting on you and God to decide when to let us know your birth day.

Your Daddy and I cannot wait to hold you and shower your with hugs and kisses.

Can't wait to see you!
Love,
Mommy.