41 Weeks

Dear Adelaide,

I'm 41 weeks preganant with you today. For the longest time I didn't think it would bother me to go over my due date. After all, I know that biologically due dates don't mean much. What really matters is how ready YOU are to come out into this big world. Most first time mothers (and many mothers in general) need more than 40 weeks before they'll go into labor. I learned this in my Bradley methods classes. When people asked me when I was due, I'd say "December 12th, but I don't really believe in due dates." I said, and still believe, that you will let me know when you are ready, even if that means another week of carrying you in my belly.

But then December 12th came and went and you didn't come that day. Or the next, or the next, and you're still not here, a week later. It's December 19th, and I still don't know when you'll be ready.

There are some signs though that tell me labor is on it's way. I won't gross you out with the details (unless you ask, then I'll be more than happy to share with you), but I do know that my body is getting ready for the marathon that will be the labor and birth of you, my sweet precious daughter.

For instance, the last two nights I have felt contractions, different from the practice contractions called Braxton Hicks. Instead of just tightening up my belly, these contractions were sharp, crampy pains that I felt from front to back, in my belly and in my lower back. They hurt, but I knew that if they were the true onset of labor, it would get a lot stronger and harder to handle. So I breathed through them and tried (unsuccessfully) to get more sleep, but I was just so excited that something could be happening. Then I woke up in the morning, yesterday and today, and they went away.

I have been dealing with a lot of emotions this past week, waiting for you to come, knowing that it could be any moment. Patience, frustration, sadness, excitement. Even jealousy for those women I knew who were having their babies before their due dates, when I am waiting past mine. I just can't wait for that moment when we meet. I am so close to finally seeing you and touching you and learning who you are that it's almost unbearable. Each day that passes is a trial in waiting for you. I hope it is making me a stronger person. Your dad is getting pretty antsy, too. He can't wait to see your little feet. He says you will be so beautiful, and he thinks you're going to have gorgeous eyes and a headful of hair.

Your dad and I think maybe you're waiting for the winter solstice. It's in 2 days and it would be pretty neat to have you on the first day of winter. This year there will be a lunar eclipse on the winter solstice. We think maybe you just want a grand entrance. Although, no matter when you decide to come, it will be the grandest moment of our lives. I guess only time will tell. It may even be tonight! And even though I am scared of how much pain this will be, how difficult and long it may be, I know that I will meet you soon and that makes it all worth it.

I love you sweet girl!
~Moma

Week 39, Letter to Adelaide

Dear Adelaide,




As your father and I wait for you, we talk about who you will be. We talk about what you will look like, who's nose you will have, how tall you will be. You have half of your father and half of me in your genes, and how exactly we combined to make you is still a mystery. We only have a few days until we find out how much hair you have, how tiny your fingers are, how cute your mouth will be. People always say that waiting to find out if a baby is a boy or girl until birth is the biggest surprise of life, but even knowing that you will be our baby girl, I think that not knowing what you will look like and who you will be is just as great of a surprise.

[Just a teensy bit of space left! If you wait till your due date, I bet I'll touch!]

Yesterday, your dad and I were watching a tv game show, where two sisters were trying to win enough money to pay off their mother's mortgage. They talked about who their mother was, and what she meant to them. They cried when thinking of that love for her, and then I cried thinking that I am a mom to a daughter and we will share that kind of love. I already feel so much for you, and I'm anxious and excited to experience our relationship through the years. I will be your nurturer, your guide to the world and life, your secret-keeper. I can picture us as you grow, but only time will really tell who we will be together.

[Can you see my love for you? It grows every day.]

Your birth is so near. Although I'm not having many contractions throughout the day (and not strong when I do), I can tell. Our midwife says your head has dropped even lower, but that you still have room to grow, if you need to. I want you to stay warm and cozy inside my belly as long as you need, sweet girl. I want you to be nice and strong and healthy and ready for this world. I will be here waiting as long as it takes. When you are ready to come out, you will be welcomed with smiles and kisses. We hope that your father will be the first one to touch you as you come out, and with the midwife's help, he will place you into my arms, where I will hold you and cradle you to my breast. We will stare at each other and instantly that love will connect us for all time.

[Your fluffy brother, Keagan. His winter coat is beautiful!]

I am so, so ready to meet you. Your room is ready, our birth bags are packed, the house is (pretty much) clean. the Christmas tree is up and decorated, food is cooked and in the freezer for those days we can't bear to be in the kitchen. Now I am just waiting for you to come say hello!

I love you, baby!
~Moma


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
P.S. We got our camera back last week! My photos are so much better!

38 Weeks & Letter to Lentil

Dear Adelaide,

We're getting so close baby girl! I can't wait to meet you! Every day that passes now seems like we're bounds and leaps closer to your birth day. I've stopped saying how many weeks I have left, and now I'm just counting down the days.

You have a habit of kicking your feet out on the right side of my belly. Always, always, I can feel you kicking there. Sometimes it hurts, but most of the time it makes me really happy because I can just picture those little feet. They will be so tiny and wrinkled. I can't wait to count your toes and tickle your feet and kiss them all over. You will be so sweet, I just know it!


Our midwife says everything looks good. Your heartbeat is always perfect, and you are still in the best possible position for birth. Stay that way! :) Your head is really low and tight in my pelvis now, and you're getting ready to go!

I go through a mix of emotions when I think about labor. On one hand, I am afraid of the pain. I was telling your dad the other day that I don't have anything to compare pain to. I have been really lucky in this life to not have gotten hurt. I've never broken a bone, been in an accident, had food poisoning... nothing big. So I have nothing to base my tolerance of pain against. I'm scared of how bad it will hurt to have my body working to move us closer together, to move you out of my body and into this world.

But on the other hand, I am so very excited for labor! I am looking forward to being fully present and aware of what is happening with my body, of knowing every step of the way that what my body is doing is moving you down and out of me, so that we can finally meet and I can kiss those toes. I am looking forward to doing this myself, so that I can feel powerful and know that I can do anything. And I can't wait to see how your dad helps me. I know he'll be amazing and present and compassionate.

There is nothing I've done that's more exciting than you, sweet girl. We'll meet soon and be forever mother and daughter. I love you!

Love,
Moma

Lentil Letter #1

Little Lentil,

I am eleven weeks and four days pregnant with you. The past three months have been so amazing, from the first moment I found out I was your mom, and those wondrous moments will continue forever. Sometimes I suddenly "remember" that I'm pregnant and I just want to yell it out to you, but I've had to wait to make sure we were really meant to be. And sometimes I'm just so shocked that this is really happening to your dad and me. We didn't try very long to make you, and we're lucky for that, but I've been wanting you for a very long time. I'm over the moon that I'm finally your mom.

I'm writing all this as kind of a journal of sorts, of thoughts and wishes along this journey, so that maybe someday you'll know just how much you've been loved from the start. How much thought and dreaming goes into helping you grow.

Today your daddy and I went to our first midwife's appointment and talked all about you - about how to eat healthy for you and how to prepare for you. And I laid on the bed in the purple room and we tried to hear your heartbeat. For 3 seconds we did, and it was fast and strong. But then you went into hiding or kept moving around a lot. You're still so very small in there, and my uterus has really grown, giving you lots of room to move around and tuck yourself away from us. Thankfully we videoed our first meeting, and your father and I have already watched those 3 seconds seven times. And the video camera is still out and hooked up to the TV, so I'm sure we'll watch it even again before we curl up to bed.

I almost cried (well, I did for a second) when I heard your heartbeat, but then I was waiting and holding my breath and wishing for you to peek back up to us. We have another appointment in one month, which seems so, so very long, and you'll be much bigger and louder for us to hear. Your dad can't wait to see if you're made with rhythm. He's a drummer and he can't wait to teach you all he knows!

I can't wait to hold you. And to really meet you. And kiss you and smell you and feed you. I love you so much already, little lentil!

Love,
Your Moma
(this is the same way I write "mom" to my own mother, and I'm determined to have you do the same!)