11 days to go...

Dear Baby Girl,

HOLY CRAP. Where did the time go? We are almost in single digits counting down to your projected due date, but really you could arrive any time you feel like it! Dad and I are on our toes with our hospital bags packed, car seat ready to go, pediatrician picked out, and now we’re hunkering down to play the waiting game. I’m still going to work every day, but I bring an emergency bag with a towel and a change of clothes if go-time should happen to happen during work hours. I hope it doesn’t, but if it does it might lead to a dramatic (albeit embarrassing) story.

At our 38-week doctor appointment I was officially 1 cm dilated. Immediately alarm bells went off in my head saying, “SHE’S COMING NOW, OMG!” BUT apparently it could still be another week or two… or it could be today! Impossible to tell. However, the doctor definitely doesn’t expect you to go past your due date so it looks like we will have a September baby on our hands! Dad was slightly hoping you would be born on his birthday (10/5) so that he would never again get attention on his birthday, but it’s not looking like it. Silly Dad, like you and I would allow him to forget his birthday anyway! There’s a higher chance you will be born on Nonna’s birthday (9/23), which I’m sure she would LOVE.

(Readers, get your bets in now!)

And so, the waiting continues. I’m still wandering around the house thinking of everything else I could possibly do. As always, my ambitions generally exceed my energy. I get contractions frequently at work, but I believe they are Braxton-Hicks because they always seem to subside when I get up and walk around. Also, they don’t hurt (just a tightening), and I’m told that is not the case for the real deal. I’m definitely afraid of going into labor and not knowing it (no source of information provides a crystal-clear definition), but I’m told I will know. 

And so… we WAIT.

Love,

Mom

Updated picture of your nursery.
The walls are still empty, and the window curtain-less.
This is one of the items on my list I still haven't gotten to. Oops.

Your bookshelf is starting to fill up, but I hope to add to it.
The QUILT is hand stitched by your Great Gram Nette and it is absolutely perfect.

I managed to make some mini chicken pot pies for the freezer.
If the chicken-to-vegetable ratio is lacking,
it's your father's fault.
The squash in the corner still hasn't transformed into its intended dish.
It's in the refrigerator, waiting to be made into something.
Dad says I start too many projects at once and then have
lots of half-finished projects going on.
He's right.

Showering at Work

Dear Baby Girl,

It seems your father and I were both thrown respective surprise baby showers by our coworkers. Mine was back in July and I was completely caught off guard. It was a joint shower for me and Nina, complete with dueling pink and blue cakes, outfits, and balloons (yes, we each had our own cake). It was extremely generous of our coworkers, as it was sponsored by the individuals (NOT the company), but parties in the office can be an awkward affair. Everyone kind of stands around not really knowing what to do with themselves or how long to linger, waiting for me or Nina to say something, but we don’t know what to say because we’re coming straight from our stressful desks and the mental transition from desk-to-party-to-desk is a peculiar one.  Nevertheless, it was so nice of everyone and Nina and I completely unintentionally color coordinated our respective baby’s genders with our outfits.

Your father’s office party was slightly less of a surprise. I am speaking second-hand here, but apparently Dad went to a meeting where someone had their computer screen projected on the wall, and in the middle of the meeting, a reminder popped up saying, “Tony’s surprise baby shower.” BUSTED. So that person blew the surprise, but at least those in the meeting got a good laugh out of it. Your father’s coworkers were also extremely generous. His office party was an ice cream social complete with an Elmo piñata. Now, I had no idea, but apparently your father has a strong aversion to Elmo, which he had made clear to his coworkers. So, they gave him a bat and in one swift swing, Elmo was decapitated. Let’s hope that your Sesame Street character preference goes to Cookie Monster, lest your father decimate your Elmo toys.

Your dad’s coworker Chris was kind enough to document the event, and send me the photos. Chris used to work at my company before he went to Dad’s and we went to graduate school together (I perpetually remind him that he was my friend first, even though he and your dad are buddy-buddy now). He also has a very young daughter, Maisy, so I’m hoping you two will be friends. He’s the one in the photo above, holding Elmo’s head while Dad is sporting the pink lei. Chris mentioned that at the shower Dad showcased his softer side, so rest assured he’s already starting to melt before you’re even here. It's funny because Grandma Tracy mentioned, "I can't picture Tony at a surprise shower... did he tell everyone to go back to work?" Ha. Later when I told Dad this he said, "See, Tracy gets me." Although I really think he did enjoy it.

19 days to go as of today, Baby Girl! The countdown has officially reached the TEENS! OH MY!

Love,

Mom 

"Labor" Day

Dear Baby Girl,

Well, you decided not to take Labor Day quite so literally. We live another day without a daughter. But Dad and I made due.

We had a nice relaxing weekend where I procrastinated on putting together a hospital bag AND on picking a name (YEP… we’re somehow still in THAT boat). When people ask me about your name, I’ve started saying “…a girl has no name.” A reference you will understand once I sit you through seven seasons of Game of Thrones. Until then, take my word for it, it’s funny. And by the way, I’m not just being a tease. Your name (or lack of one) actually keeps me awake at night, stressing.

In the very last weekend of summer I finally got to try out my maternity bathing suit I bought way back when in the first trimester. It actually fit surprisingly well. We hit the pool at Dad’s former bachelor pad (his Bethesda condo… which we will hopefully NOT own once you arrive because it will have sold after someone makes us an outstanding offer and wants to close immediately). Dad captured me in all of my third trimester glory in my red bathing suit and then sent the picture to the Leavitt group text with the caption, “Humpback spotted in the DC Metro area.” Nice.  I know I make it seem like this was an effortless back float and all, but I can tell you, you do NOT float… you sink. It actually took some work to push that belly up above water. Anything for a solid photo op! We also saw a man there with his six month old daughter having a grand old time kicking and splashing and we stared and smiled at them creepily with longing eyes.

The rest of the weekend Dad was in his happy place at his grill, and I was in my happy place because we FINALLY had some great weather. The weekend genuinely felt like fall—my favorite season already, but now… NOW… because it is to be your birthday season… no other season shall heretofore EVER rival fall again! Not even close. It was nice to eat and be outside without melting into a puddle of perspiration and to take a breath that didn’t feel like you swallowed a big gulp of sauna-air. I agreed to dine outside only on the condition that I sport my anti-mosquito attire (see picture above). Dad was on fire with his wittiness amidst his euphoria of being at his grill, getting closer to being a dad, and the weather, and he captioned this picture, “And now she transforms into the Ninger. Ginger in the house, zika fighting ninja outside of it.” He thought that one was very funny. He keeps asking me when we will find out whether or not you are a ginger (although I strongly dislike this derogatory term, and vehemently deny being labeled as such, as my hair is decidedly strawberry blonde, not red).

ANYWAY… that was our Labor Day weekend. But TODAY I have a quick update on YOU! We just had our 36 week appointment and the doctor said you are looking perfect (of course you are)! She said that you are very low in my uterus so she suspects a relatively quick delivery (famous last words). Your heartbeat was detected way down below my belly button. We did an ultrasound and I got a GREAT view of your nose and mouth for a quick second, but the damn doctor failed to capture it in its best clarity in photo form. You really do look like your dad, but I’m tired of this black and white nonsense. I can’t wait to see you in full color and in three dimensions. The doctor predicted you will be on time or a couple days after, which works just swell for me. I shall continue the countdown and continue my preparations to welcome you home. And I shall bake something pumpkin because… autumn is upon us my dear! At long last!

Love,

Mom

The FINAL Countdown

Left to Right: The "mid-thirties"-- 34, 35, and 36 weeks
The middle picture I realize I look a little trashy,
but I'm wearing my original bump-measure outfit for consistency's sake.

Dear Baby Girl,

We are really in the home stretch now! I can’t believe that we have (possibly) entered the month that you will be born. Despite a grueling hot summer, it really hasn’t felt like a long time. Dad and I are making all of the last minute preparations that we can, but every tiny thing that we do, I think of ten more things to do.  

All of your gear is put together and the car seat is locked and ready in Dad’s truck. I find it completely amusing that he is now driving around with an empty car seat in his back seat. He said, “Wow, this makes it a lot more real…” I said, “Wait a few weeks and it will be even more real!”

We took two classes in preparation for your arrival: an infant care class and a childbirth education class. They were both through the hospital and the former was very helpful. Our instructor was “Billy from Chantilly” (a female), and with her thick southern accent she was incredibly amusing. Dad changed his first diaper (on a doll), and we learned that crib bumpers and swaddling are now a no-no as far as your bedtime routine goes. “Sleep sacks” have replaced swaddles, and crib bumpers just have to go entirely. So I grudgingly returned your beautiful pink crib bumper, and Dad and I invested in some sleep sacks (although honestly sleep sacks—to me—just seem like a premade swaddle, so I’m not convinced this isn’t some marketing ploy). Dad did well with the doll and was an active participant in the class, although when asked by the instructor how many weeks along I was, he was about 5 weeks early. To his credit, he miscounted because he was counting backwards from 9 months when really pregnancy is about 10 months.

We had less luck with the childbirth class. We had this British instructor who’s opening statement was, “I hope you will like this class because really everything I say you can find online, so sorry you paid so much to take it.” What a way to sell yourself, Lady! Very encouraging. Furthermore, the class (split into two classes) was 6PM-9PM on a Wednesday and Thursday—so immediately after work and encroaching on my bedtime. This was entirely unnecessary. Either the whole thing could have been cut down to one class or each class could have been significantly shorter. The entire first night was about partner support and breathing exercises. Dad and I literally had to hold hands and stare into each other’s eyes while Homegirl tried to create a visual image of the sun rising with the most soothing voice she could muster.  Dad was making faces at me so I was cracking up and we just couldn’t take the exercise seriously. But it became less amusing once a torrential thunderstorm started right as we were about to leave. If we could have cut the sunrise short by about 5 minutes we could have gotten home much faster. Dad still holds a vendetta against the British lady for this. Also, I find it very hard to believe that this is how Dad and I will be in the delivery room. I envision a lot of screaming, and me wanting to punch him in the face if he even mentions the sun rising.

The second night was a little better. We saw several live births using various methods (i.e. natural, epidural, c-section). But the best part of the class was when the instructor stopped talking and played the videos, so she was probably right… we could have just received our education online. Every time she spoke it was completely useless information. “Remember, childbirth is a natural experience that has been happening since the caveman days so just do whatever your body tells you to do.” Gee, thanks. And honestly out of everything I saw in the videos, the epidural and catheter scared me the most so I think my plan is to try for natural (…at least until the pain gets so unbearable that I get over my nauseous aversion to epidurals). We’ll see. It’s going to be a game time decision.

So that’s what Dad and I have been up to. Yesterday we did a tour of the hospital—the holy ground for which you will be brought into this world. We were impressed. The tour was beneficial and the delivery rooms are very nice—which should be pleasant for everyone else in the room except for you and I, as we will be doing all of the work.

Again, I can’t believe that this could be your BIRTHDAY month! You are surely growing as I feel like I really popped this week (prior to this I’ve been getting a lot of looks of shock when I tell people I’m 9 months pregnant). You’ve been kicking a lot this Labor Day weekend and I’ve been feeling the Braxton Hicks every so often, so we must be getting close. We might just have a September baby on our hands!

Love,

Mom

These boxes are all for you!
Who knew one little girl in the womb could require so much preparation!

Dad and I had to call in reinforcements for the Pack n' Play.
Audrey came over and put it together in a hot second as she is an experienced Aunt.

I've had Gumdrop ever since I was a little girl and I took him everywhere.
Now, Gumdrop is yours to play with.

I've done my best to create a couple of freezer meals for your arrival,
but not nearly as many as I intended to. This is a chicken/corn chowder.
Luckily, your Nonna is much better at freezer meals than I am
and is already asking for a list of what we want.

Another freezer-meal: breakfast biscuits.
I made some sausage gravy with Nonna's homemade sausage.

Babymoon

Top Left: Me sailing The Woodwind, much like Christopher Walken.
Top Right: Kathy Lee Gifford. For real.
Bottom Left: Annapolis sunset.
Bottom Right: Dad posing on The Woodwind.

Dear Baby Girl,

The elusive “Baby Moon” has—from the very beginning of this pregnancy—been something I didn’t think was in the cards for your father and I. Zika ruled out us traveling to any tropical locations, home renovations consumed the more mobile part of my pregnancy, and generally the activities that I like to do when on vacation are… well, active (although I’m not quite to your Uncle Ben’s level, non-pregnant Taylor can hold her own). Anyway after nonchalantly discussing the matter, your decisive father took action and booked an overnight stay in Annapolis—nice and easy trip, on the water to escape the heat, solid eateries, and sailboats. Done and done.

Our little getaway had a couple of minor blips, but nothing we couldn’t overcome. First of all, it was so hot that weekend that even the waterfront location did little to subdue the summer weather. Referencing my favorite local weatherman, Chuck Bell, this August has been the hottest August on record in the DC area, and this summer falls in the top three hottest. The Saturday that we went to Annapolis was triple digits. When we got there on Saturday afternoon, we got lunch, moseyed around town for a while, got some ice cream, and then took a solid nap in the air conditioning before dinner. Post dinner, Dad had a nightcap at the restaurant and I had the virgin version of the “World Famous Pusser’s Painkiller,” (funny that this even has a virgin version) and we called it a night.

That night, I woke up even more times than usual sweating hot. Each time I got up, I turned the AC up more and more. It got to the point where I had the temperature set at 62 degrees, and was still uncomfortably hot (as you know, this is very uncharacteristic of me). In the morning, your father and I both woke up exhausted because apparently he had suffered the same fate. So—pregnancy was out as for the culprit of my mysterious hot flash. Anyway, we went about our business and ordered room service for breakfast. When it was delivered, and the man saw that I was pregnant, he gasped and started apologizing profusely.  Apparently, the air conditioning at the hotel had been broken the entire night. Can’t make these things up, Baby Girl, can’t make them up.

I make it sound like this ruined the weekend, but it really didn’t. We had an excellent dinner at the “Chart House” where Kathy Lee Gifford was sitting at the table right next to us. As a crazy stalker of celebrities, I was very excited about this. Normally I have little shame in bothering celebrities for photo ops during their personal time with their family, but I didn’t feel as if I quite had enough conversational knowledge about Kathy Lee to approach her. So I took the even more stalker approach and just snuck pictures. It was very exciting and dinner was excellent. Apparently Dad had a phenomenal Pinot Noir. I wouldn’t know.

The next day, Dad had organized a two hour sailing tour on “The Woodwind,” the very sailboat used in filming the legendary and timeless movie, “Wedding Crashers.” It was very cool. The crew had a photo album that basically showed Vince Vaughn reading a newspaper where I was sitting (I can tell you if Vince had been sitting at the table next to us at the Chart House I would not have been so shy). I took a turn at the wheel of the boat, as I thought it would be funny for a pregnant lady to do such a thing, but the captain seemed unimpressed. He mentioned nothing about you, but only asked if I had sailed before. I got irritated by this and told him yes; I learned to sail in Maine where it is much windier than Chesapeake Bay. He countered that he also learned in Maine at Maine Maritime. Clearly we were at a standstill. I went back to my seat. Several others on the tour took their turn at the wheel, including a little girl. Dad and I will surely take you back to Annapolis so you can have your turn at the wheel and the captain. Like me, you will also probably have prior knowledge of sailing because Grandpa Steve intends to teach you in Florida on a catamaran, as he taught me in Maine. So don’t take any shit from these Marylanders. Sailing a catamaran is more impressive than steering a schooner any day, any time.

The sail, however, was very nice and Dad and I enjoyed our time on the water. When we got back to the hotel, we had a quick bite at the bar, and got ready to leave. As Dad was paying the bill, he got a call from the front desk. Apparently a van had scraped his truck in the parking lot. This was rather disconcerting as we had valeted the truck per the hotel’s requirement. When we went up to the valet to inquire about the situation and ask how such an event had happened the valet answered, “We’re very sorry, we normally do not allow anyone in our valet parking lot, but today we made an exception for the AC repairman. He scraped your truck with his van.”

Again… Can. Not. Make. This. Up. Oh, the irony.

At this point, the Babymoon ups and downs are kind of comical. We’ve been promised a free night’s stay at the hotel, and perhaps we’ll reserve that for the fall, lest the air conditioner suffer another bout of ill fate. Perhaps you shall get to see Annapolis sooner rather than later, Baby Girl. Hope you weren’t too hot in there!

Love,

Mom

As a consolation prize for the lack of air conditioning
we picked up Georgetown cupcakes on the way home.
Dad had one, and I had three. Perfect ratio.

Meet Bob

The beautiful BOB 2016 Revolution Flex.
Complete with the Chicco KeyFit 30 Zip Infant car seat.
Bring on the baby!

Dear Baby Girl,

Behold, Bob the Jogger. Someday, in the near future, when I am sweating pushing you on mile two of a four mile run (a run I can’t cut short because it is an “out-and-back” and I am already two miles away from home), and struggling with every heavy painful step because I’m grossly out of shape, I will curse the day that I was excited about this stroller. But for now… I am SO EXCITED ABOUT THIS STROLLER!

Courtesies of Grandma Tracy, this will be your chariot for our adventures. A beastly behemoth, Bob is all-terrain, rugged, and ready to roll. Bob was one of those situations where I researched extensively, and then just settled on the top brand—wasting my own time and energy. BUT, I am not disappointed so far. After your dad put it together, I took it for a little spin around the house, and it glides with a smoothness akin to your own bottom.

I plan to take you to the monuments in this stroller, on (flat) hikes, to the beach, to the fireworks, and for every run I go on once you are big enough for it to be safe. I intend to run the Pittsburgh Marathon in May (as part of a relay team… let’s not get totally 26-mile crazy here) and I will be taking you on my runs to train for it. As my mother says, and her mother before her, you need to get outside to “get the stink out of your pants.” Who knows? Perhaps your dad will even take you for a leisurely jog, and you will succeed where I failed to get him to go for a run with me at all, ever.

We’re getting closer and closer to the day this stroller will no longer be empty!

Love,

Mom

Leavitt Women - By Gram Nette

Leavitt Ladies from Left: Judy, Hannah (beautiful bride!), Phebe, Carlie, ME, Gram Nette, and Shiela

Dear Baby Girl- I did it! I convinced your Great Grandmother to write you a letter! It didn't even require any arm-twisting; all I had to do was ask. This is truly an incredibly precious treasure for you. At 91 years old, she wrote this letter from the heart about all the strong women in your family (on the Leavitt side)... and there are many. Gram Nette is among the strongest, and she's the original role model to us all.  I miss living down the street from her, and I am so happy for this special gift to you so that you can get to know this woman I've loved all my life. Ever since I moved away from Turner, Gram has written regular letters to me, and I've saved every one. They range from casual humor on random greeting cards (Gram always has a stash), to more serious concerns on blue lined paper... always looking out for me from almost 1,000 miles away. Knowing that these letters are something that I will keep and cherish all my life, I am thrilled that you now have one for yourself.

Fortunately shortly after this letter was written, my cousin (and yours), Hannah, had a wedding celebration. Perfect photo opportunity for the Leavitt ladies. Unfortunately, there are a few missing in action... Ariella and her daughter Avery could not make the wedding, and your Great Great Grandmother Hazel is no longer around. HOWEVER, in terms of a picture, that is nothing a little photo shop can't fix. Read on, and enjoy.

Your Great Great Grandmother Hazel Leavitt

Two more Leavitt Ladies from Left: Avery and Ariella

ALL the Leavitt Ladies... SO FAR... August 20, 2016

Back in 1925 when I was born, a girl was not valued very highly. She was expected to marry young, serve her husband, have a big family, and keep her family clean, fed and clothed. Luckily my parents, Rufus and Elsie Prince, insisted that my 5 brothers and I were to be respected and treated equally. This allowed me to be an independent thinker and doer. From early childhood I wanted to be a teacher, and after graduation from Leavitt Institute, I earned a three year teaching certificate. In 1945, I went to teach in Falmouth, Maine and then, after my marriage, I taught in Turner.

Parenting 4 children while performing a multitude of jobs as a partner in the running of Leavitt Orchards made for very busy years. I loved both jobs dearly. When my marriage failed, I was prompted to go back to college, studying nights and summers to earn my BS degree and return to teaching. I taught 3rd / 4thgrades for the next 20 years and found this job very satisfying. I was a good teacher and knew I was performing a valuable service, while being allowed by my principal, to try many innovative ideas.

At 60 I retired and discovered traveling. I found that as a hiker I could afford to see many places in the world. I met wonderful people as I walked miles in Europe, the contiguous United States, New Zealand, Jamaica, Alaska, Hawaii and Iceland. My interests widened to include family, gardening, music (all genres), the arts, and reading. These continue to sustain and entertain me at age 91.

I love to think back to your mother Taylor's birth and youth. It seemed that she was not happy to be a baby because she could not wait to start on her adventures. She was a great thinker and was bombarded with ideas.Your mom's drive to learn through projects, reading and study was unstoppable. My space, sewing machine and transportation were often needed, and we made WONDERFUL MEMORIES.

My own daughters Sheila and Judy had been driven to get an education and pursue their own professions. Sheila spent over a year in Europe before deciding she wanted to go to Bowdoin College in Brunswick, Maine to study pre-med. She graduated as a member of the first group of women to be accepted to Bowdoin in that program. She met her future husband there and they both headed to Rochester Medical School to earn their medical degrees. She practiced in Rochester and Boston for 5 years before starting her family. She used her education to guide her 4 children - home schooling, facilitating group lessons with acquaintances who had specific expertise, and organizing, scripting and directing a children's musical theater troupe. Her children all were encouraged and supported in pursuing their musical talents.

Sheila continues to be very active. She is an activist and doesn't hesitate to speak loud and clear if she perceives a wrong in our society. She is a voracious reader, a talented artist, a true animal lover and devoted wife, daughter, friend!

She and Andy adopted a beautiful, loving, talented daughter from Columbia, South America. Ariella Lichtman Logan has studied and become a cosmetologist and also continued her eduction to become a dental assistant. She worked in a dentist's office for several years. Recently she decided that her most important job is to be a full time mom to two beautiful children. Ari with her husband is guiding her daughter Avery O'Dell, 7, and an adorable infant son to be happy and positive as adults. Avery is a smart first grader who loves to read and is teaching her baby brother all of her tricks!

Judith is our peacemaker. Hardly a day goes by that she doesn't remind us that, “It's not what you say, but how you say it”, that there might be a less abrasive way of making a point. She made her mark by getting her degree in education and becoming an outstanding teacher. She refused to allow her students to fail. They were not “let off the hook” until they had mastered the task. When she had three small children at home, she contributed to her family's finances by setting up a daycare for her friends. The group learned through play to respect and care for each other. As her last child entered kindergarten, Judy went back to public education working first with young special needs children and then finding herself back with middle school kids teaching English, reading and social studies. Asking students to think for themselves about the world beyond their own hometown and to look for ways to solve problems were her everyday goal. She was a true leader at the middle school in Turner where she taught, and many other teachers looked to her for ideas and inspiration. These same goals applied to her three children. Now that they are all married adults, Judy devotes many days to her 2 young grandsons. She has numerous friends and many interests that she fills her time with. How she juggles managing a house, kayaking, reading, yoga, walking, attending student events, babysitting, and gardening seems a miracle to me. 

Hannah Reed Waltz (w/ Leavitt blood) has a graduate degree in school counseling and worked first with middle school teenagers in Monmouth, Maine. She was frustrated by her perceived lack of ability to change students' lives. She was depressed by her “failure'. Feeling that there was a better option for her, she and her boyfriend went searching. They moved to North Carolina. She was excited to land a job with a research team at University of North Carolina studying the possibility for changing the lives of people with schizophrenia through early intervention. Her talents with people have been recognized and she is continuing to advance in her field. She plans to broaden her study to include a specialty in autism. She married Brandon, bought a house, adopted two cats and a lucky dog. She knows where she wants to be and is on her way to achieving some major goals.

Phebe Reed Jacobson (w/ Leavitt blood) took a few years after high school to find her career. She started at Mass College of Pharmacy, returned to University of Southern Maine and finally decided to step back from studying. She worked to support herself and trained on weekends to become a dental assistant. At her first dental office she became friends with and finally married Dr Dave. She worked with his office for a bit and finally was ready to study for her career as a nurse; she wanted to feel she was doing good and making a difference in the world. After graduation she was snatched up by Maine Medical Center. While doing her practicum work with acutely ill patients at Maine Med, her “grace under pressure” was appreciated. She is happy to be challenged. She continues to work at the dental office, to help guide Dave's 2 teenage sons, and to add her touch to major house renovations. She is busy enough to keep out of trouble although she does have a sweet mischievous streak!

The two Leavitt woman closest to your age are Avery O'Dell (see above) and Carlie Grace Leavitt. We can't overlook this spitfire. She is 12 years old and full of energy. She is a good cook, sews with her Nana, excels in sports, loves to sing and act in dramas and is a very good student. She loves kids so I bet you two will be good cousin friends. She makes her great grandmother proud.

Now there is to be another baby girl Cicala (w/ Leavitt blood)! You will be born with the desire, energy and capacity for a lifetime of work toward the improvement of human existence. I am so proud of the Leavitt girls who have come before you. They have high goals and are rewarded with great success. You too will be loved as you carry on tirelessly in whatever you choose to do.

The true matriarch of the Leavitt family was Gram Hazel Talbot Leavitt (b. 1897 - d. 1974). She was mother -in-law to Great Gram Nette. Gram Hazel was much adored by all of her grandchildren and their friends. She would drop everything to spend quality time with each of her 5 grands. Her house was a warm blanket that wrapped you up and kept you safe. Her grandchildren were encouraged to explore stamp/coin collecting, cooking, games, music, the attic (oh what an adventure) with enthusiasm. She didn't judge; she just loved. 

Gram was bright, energetic, strong, and kind. She loved helping people less fortunate than she was and worked tirelessly caring for the sick. She loved her community and family. 

Gram was a wonderful model for all Leavitt women to follow.

With love,

Great Gram Nette 

91 years 2016

(Annette Prince Leavitt)

Another note... special thank you to Judy and Sheila for editing, and for Judy to organizing the photo at the wedding, and helping me track down photos of the remaining women. And of course, serving as Gram's technological liaison. 

I also want to say that I missed Gram's 90th birthday in Maine only because I told her that I will go to the one that is triple digits. So will you.

Early Thirties

This is last week as I have not yet taken a "33 Week" photo.

Dear Baby Girl,

You and I hit 33 weeks yesterday and we now have…. (wait for it)… FOURTY-SEVEN DAYS to go! It’s been a while since I’ve been awake enough to write to you, so we’re going to organize this little letter-update Dad-style…

YOU: We had an ultrasound at your thirty week appointment and you looked great. The doctor told me that you were sucking on your tiny fingers—which is SO heartwarming and adorable—but stare and squint at the screen as I may, I could not make it out for myself…it just looked like a black and white mass (although I pretended to see it because it felt like an exciting moment). You are still roughly in the fiftieth percentile for size, so you might actually not reach the grandiosity of our favorite 12-pounder, Uncle Bart. Good news for Mom.

You’ve been in the “head down” position for our last two appointments (thirty and thirty-two weeks), and the OB says that you are low in my uterus, which means you are a) unlikely to flip around prior to birth, and b) likely come out “quickly” during birth (obviously a relative term in the birthing world). I don’t know whether this means you will be punctual with your arrival or not, but in any case, you’re in the “ready” position well ahead of time, like I would expect my daughter to be.

Sometimes you kick a lot and sometimes you go long periods of time without kicking and I debate whether I need to go to the hospital and check on you. I try to poke you a little, but you will not kick if you do not feel like kicking… stubborn, and again, exactly how I would expect my daughter to be.

ME: My body has betrayed me. I’m gaining weight in places other than my belly. I am not totally okay with the size of my ass right now. I’m not eating more, because I get full very quickly, so I’m not sure where this mysterious mass is coming from, but I don’t like it.

It is exceedingly difficult to shave my legs, but I haven’t gotten to the point yet where I’m giving up on them.  However, it’s become sort of a once a week kind of thing.

My sleeping habits are slightly out of whack. I wake up at least three times a night, I snore, I sometimes fart in my sleep (embarrassing I know, but it’s true), I take up 75% of the bed, and I have a hard time breathing. Your father will do this little impression of me waking up in the night where I stomp off to the bathroom, return to chug some water, gasp for air, and then plop down back in the bed, rolling one way then the other a few times before I ultimately go back to snoring. It’s all very attractive.

Work is challenging and exhausting. It’s uncomfortable and every afternoon I hit a wall earlier and earlier. I have zero energy when I get home, and weeknights go by crazy fast.

Things I miss most: running and coffee. I’m not talking about a soft little pitter patter jog. I want to run as fast as I can for 3 miles straight (although when I finally do, it likely will be a pitter patter jog). Coffee I miss more than I did in any other trimester… I feel if I just had an artificial energy fix I could accomplish so much more… ah, drugs.

DAD: He is putting your gear together almost as quickly as I can purchase it. His arch nemesis? The Pack n’ Play changing table. He has yet to conquer that item, and what he has done so far was met with loud and profane hollers. Dad vs. Pack n’ Play Part II will commence today.

He is getting excited and anxious for your arrival. We’re taking an infant care class today and I am particularly excited to observe how Dad handles it. To quote him in his own words (after I tried to explain to him that burping a baby is a gentle tap, NOT a pound), “I’m worried about the infant stage. I am not by nature a gentle person.” The look of concern and fear on his face as he said it gave me a good chuckle. “Delicate” is certainly not an adjective I would use to describe your father, but I think he will be great.

WORLD: Zika has reached the US with a small outbreak in Miami. So far, it is contained to the immediate area, but it still makes me happy with my decision not to travel to Florida this year.

We are in the midst of the summer Olympics in Rio. Michael Phelps has officially been declared the greatest Olympian of all time by multiple media outlets, and the US women’s gymnastics team is kicking ass and taking names. I plan on enrolling you in gymnastics in a few years, but—I’m sorry to say—the genetic odds of you becoming an Olympic gymnast are not in your favor. BUT, you never know.

The DC metro continues to defy temperature odds. We are entering another weekend of 100+ degree temperatures. Hope you’re staying cool in there.

7 WEEKS TO GO!

Love,

Mom 

Hot Town, Summer in the City

Going to see the monuments never gets old.
Got some solid shots here, but the next ones will be even better because YOU will be in them!

Dear Baby Girl,

After thirteen years in the DC metro, I have pretty much nailed down the DC tourist circuit—I can navigate the monuments, museums, and historical sites like no other. However, it is a rare opportunity that I get to play hostess to DC virgins. Your Great Aunt Tricia, cousin Casie and cousin Woodrow gave me such an opportunity. I made certain that Tricia and Casie hit at least one Smithsonian, all the major monuments, and of course the White House. Baby Woodrow got to see the White House, but he missed out on the others as we did not want to overwhelm him at such a young age. Perhaps he can come back and see the monuments with his first cousin thrice removed (YOU), and you can take over as tour guide.

Anyhow, whence monument-ing, and things of the like, your mother is notorious for one thing: misjudging distance. I believe that this folly originated in my collegiate years of running cross country. We ran all over the city at a rather brisk pace and thus I think everything is closer than it is. When I say something is a block away your Great Aunt Joanne will ask me, “A real block or a Taylor block?” I swear I do not do this on purpose. I am just trying to maximize sight-seeing in a short amount of time, and that requires an immense amount of walking. If such walking is not met with haste, then well… it can take a while. You, Baby Girl, will not have to worry about this as you will have a smooth ride in my jogger stroller and we shall zip around town uninhibited.

In any case, despite my likely pushing everyone to trek just a little too far, and your father pointing out my overly ambitious itinerary on numerous occasions, I think we all had a great weekend (at least, I know I did). Casie and Tricia hit up the American History Smithsonian (my favorite one) on Friday while I was at work, and we all did our monument tour at dusk on Saturday after the shower. Tricia officially took her first cab ride, her first uber ride and her first metro ride, so it was certainly a weekend of firsts. The DC cab did not disappoint as he was a complete and utter lunatic, jibber jabbing away about politics. Might as well give the Mainers the full city life experience.

On Sunday we had brunch in DC and then moseyed on over to the White House (me: “oh it’s just a couple blocks!” Joanne: “Yeah right!” Dad: “You’re insane”). The brunch was lovey and I have to hand it to Woodrow. He is one of the most well behaved, pleasant, adorable kids I have ever met (I suppose this is really handing it to his mother Emily, and not to him… I have to give the mother credit for these things as I intend to take it for myself with you). He always had a smile on his face, even throughout the baby shower, and Dad was happy to have an element of testosterone in our crew, albeit a young one. He will be less than two years older than you so if I can get Emily back down here (which I intend to) you are sure to be buddies. I also need to get Casie’s son Colby down here as he is a history buff and had his mother facetime him at all the major sights. He surely needs to see them in the flesh.

… I digress. As I was saying, it was a very fun and exciting weekend for me. I loved having everyone in town and I miss the Morri very much as I seldom get to see them these days. Everyone has their own family and living in different parts of the country makes it difficult. HOWEVER, I do intend to take you to Maine for Thanksgiving this year and we will make the rounds so you can meet everyone and I can tell you about it later because you won’t remember meeting them at two months old. It’s not a big deal. They will remember meeting you and they’ll have to remember you in the womb because it was commemorated with their first trip to DC (at least some of them anyway).

Love,

Mom

P.S. Does White House get capitalized? I wasn’t sure about that but I feel as though it is a proper noun so I capitalized it. Perhaps your grammar will have surpassed mine by the time that you read this.

Top Left: Tricia and Casey from the top of the Lincoln.
In case Great Uncle Garry doubts her, she did ascend all of the steps! No elevator!
Bottom Left and Middle: Emily and Woodrow. I LOVE the picture in the middle.
Look at him looking straight into the camera and smiling! Smarty knows how to work it.
Bottom Right: You, me, and Grandma.

The weekend activities tuckered Dad right out.
He did an excellent job as co-host, and is back in his mesh shorts.
Sigh. It was so nice to see him wear real clothes for a couple of days.
Bottom Left: Collection of baby shower cards.
Bottom Middle: Dad sucking the helium out of your balloons. Like a mature adult.
Bottom Right: Dad folding your newly acquired tiny socks. I found this funny.

Showered

Look at that setup! Love it.

Dear Baby Girl,

If you ever are in need of some top tier party planning talent please call Lynn. She is one of my best friends in the area, and when she offered to throw me a baby shower it sounded like the best decision I could make. She did not disappoint.

The shower took place at Screwtop Wine Bar, which is your father and my local watering hole (incredibly local, as it is exactly one block from our house). While Arlington is notorious for its extremely high restaurant turnover (due to high rent and a difficult-to-please consumer base), I suspect that Screwtop will survive. It benefits from small square footage (i.e. less rent) and excellent food and wine. When Lynn suggested we have the shower there I was 100% on board. Though I could not partake in the wine, I was happy that my guests could sip my favorite variety: sparkling pink rosé, in honor of my Baby Girl.

Grandma Tracy teamed up with Lynn to co-host, and it was flawless execution. It was organized as a brunch, and the menu included cheese and charcuterie, pulled pork nachos, a couple of salads, quiche, sandwich platters, and ultimately Georgetown cupcakes (both my and Grandma Tracy’s favorite favorite… two favorites for emphasis). Lynn got crafty with the décor (some of which will end up in your bedroom), and the whole setting really looked picturesque and slightly comical as the backdrop for the baby shower was shelves on shelves of wine.

I loved every minute of it. It was an intimate party with my most nearest and dearest best friends in the area, your Aunt Joanne (who insanely decided to go round trip from Pittsburgh to DC and back in one day), Shelly (one of Dad’s longtime friends from high school), and a faction of our extended family from the Morris side who journeyed all the way from Maine to celebrate (Dad calls them the “Morri” which he supposes is plural for Morris). It was very touching to have all of these out-of-towners make the journey south in your honor, as you are the most special thing that has ever happened to me. The Morri stayed in town the whole weekend, and we gallivanted around the metro area, which was especially exciting as it was an inaugural trip to Washington for three of the five members of our crew (and I love playing tour guide to first-timers…more on their trip later).

The meal was a casual affair, and I opened gifts intermittently while everyone ate. I’m very grateful for everything you received—both from those that were able to attend and those that could not make it—everything was perfect.  Dad showed up at the end to say hello and help transport your newly acquired gear, and most everyone came over to the house afterward to see the renovations and have a second cupcake (I myself had two…and two more the next day… and I apologize to you for the sugar overload). One of the most exciting moments of the day was showing everyone the nursery. Grandpa Steve fully achieved the wow-factor with that one. And I have to call out Audrey specifically because she was here in this house ripping out mold in 2009, she lived here for about three years, and moved in even before I did (I am not kidding). Her reaction to the transformation was priceless. She just kind of sat in your room for a while and stared. Kind of like what I do every night. Like a crazy creepy person.

Again, I couldn’t have asked for a better day, and a special thanks goes out to Grandma Tracy and Lynn for making it happen. I will be calling Lynn for your first birthday party for sure as she serves as a party planner/decorator/florist triumvirate.

Love,

Mom

Top left and right: Momma and Grandma, waiting for you get here at 28 weeks.
Middle left: Momma and Audrey
Bottom Left: Momma and Lynn

Left: Dad and I, all smiles waiting for our girl.
Top right: Momma and Natalia, who graciously picked up the Georgetown cupcakes
and sadly left for a foreign service assignment in Afghanistan a week later.
We will be sure and facetime her though once you are born!
Bottom right: Momma and Aunt Joanne, who I am SO happy made it for the shower even though
I think she is insane for doing the drive same-day!

All the Morri!
Top, from the left: Casie, Tricia, Joanne, Emily and Woodrow, Grandma Tracy and Momma!
It was hard to get a good picture of all seven of us, but I like this one because Woodrow is smiling.
You two are sure to be buddies.
Bottom right: Cousins! Emily, Casie, and Momma