A Personal Moment
Dear Baby Girl,
You are 23 weeks old now. You’re not even born yet and I already can’t believe how quickly you’re growing up. The delicate kicks you used to give me have suddenly turned into full-blown kungfu leg thrusts that are so strong, I expect to see my belly fat jiggle with each blow. Thankfully, my stomach and its blubber are too tightly stretched now to allow that to happen.
Last night, as your dad and I dozed off in bed, you began practicing kickboxing on my uterus. Your dad, who has been trying to feel you move for weeks, reached his hand to my belly and let out a startled gasp. For the very first time, he could feel you. You gave his hand three solid jabs and he was shocked and elated by each one. I gave you a gentle poke as you quieted down, encouraging you to keep moving. Your dad, already becoming protective, scolded me, saying, “Don’t do that! She’s trying to sleep!” He’s so cute.
You also seem to be exploring a new space in my tummy. Your kicks once hit so low in my belly, it almost looked inappropriate when I reached my hand down to feel them. Now, you’re hanging out by my belly button and poking at my sides, which means I can now rest my hand over your kicks while in public places. Thank you for that.
Apparently, you’ve grown to the size of a spaghetti squash. I find it odd that miscellaneous books and websites always compare you to food. First you were a blueberry, then a kiwi, an apple, and now a squash. I hope you never become the size of this potato, because I would be so screwed then.
I often visualize the day you will be born. I’m sure you’ll politely knock on the door of my womb, announce to the doctors that you’re ready, and then come skipping out with a little suitcase, leaving your mommy’s important parts intact and unharmed. Actually, I think that day is probably quite traumatic for you. I imagine you’ll take one look at the bright lights, kooky alien faces staring at you and try crawling right back into where you came from. But I promise to make the immediate world around you a nice place to live. I just wish I could guarantee the same for the greater expanse you’ll one day start exploring.
I also wonder what kind of mother I will be to you. Having grown up in a quirky, flawed, yet absolutely wonderful family, I am confident in my ability to nurture, protect and love you. I know I will make mistakes, and that despite my best efforts, I will probably pass along a travel-sized portion of family baggage to you. But please know that even now, you are so deeply loved. We don’t know who you are or the person you will become, but we will carefully and proudly guide you through life and I expect that one day, you will be showing us how living is best done. Your father and I are good people, but if all goes right, you will be even better.
See you in about 124 more days!
Love,
Mom and Dad
To read some of the greatest Mother-to-Daughter Blog letters ever written, visit Dooce.com.
Awwww 🙂
Make sure you print that out and put it somewhere safe for baby to look at later in life
My wife and I are the proud parents of a little girl – only 2 months old. Babies change everything (some good / some not so good). But I wouldn’t trade it for anything. It’s been a lot of fun getting to know our little girl.
I enjoy reading your baby updates. Keep em up!
Awww … this is one of the sweetest posts ever. You need to start a scrapbook of these. I know I would have LOVED to have something like this — with pictures — to look at as an adult!
What a wonderful post!! It is a beautiful feeling isn’t it? The anticipcation is great! We just saw my oldest daughter in college for her last concert. After 9 years, she is hanging up her clarinet. I can tell you with certainty, that love you feel explodes into pride that you cannot contain.