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.