"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