Week 18 - Breathe Easier

Dear Baby,

I celebrated my twenty-eighth birthday this week, and the gift I gave to myself was the permission to breathe easier. Thinking of you this week, and of the man I want to be when you arrive, I decided that it was about time I gave myself a break. Too often, I blame myself for things that aren’t my fault. Too often, I get worked up over things I can do nothing about. And too often, I let life pass me by without taking the time to enjoy it, because I’m so worried about things to come, or things gone by. This is not who I want to be as your father. And so I decided that my birthday really would be the beginning of a new year in the life of me, that I would attack things from a different angle. And, so far, it’s worked.

There was a lot of talk of you during the pre-birthday celebrating that your mother and I did with my mom and dad (your grandparents) and my grandma (your great-grandma). Most of it centered around the fact that we still hadn’t decided on a name for you if you were a boy. The girl’s name we had picked out had been settled on for a good long while, but the boy’s name was constantly up in the air. Every time I thought we’d come up with one that would stick, your mother or I would find some reason to veto it. I won’t get into all of the names we’ve gone through yet, because that’s a topic I’d like to save for a couple weeks from now, when we actually find out if you’re a boy or a girl, but I will say that we’ve been through more than our share of them.

It’s probably good that you still couldn’t hear us outside of the womb, so that you wouldn’t have an identity crisis in utero. Yes, it was probably better that you were oblivious to the whole conversation in there, that you were just continuing about your business. Your brain was growing ever more complex, all of the individual areas differentiated by now. If we could see inside your mother’s belly, we might have seen you displaying a primitive kind of body language, one of the results of this increased brain development. Your mother having an innate talent for movement and dance, I’m sure that watching you wiggle and writhe would’ve been quite a treat.

Knowing that you were becoming ever more sensitive to the world outside of your little home, I spent a great deal of time kissing your mother’s belly, and talking to it. It’s inevitable, I suppose, this ridiculous-looking behavior. I couldn’t wait to begin to communicate with you, though, so I would whisper silly nothings to you, looking up every once in a while to see the smile on your mother’s face. And I’d rub her belly a great deal, which she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, the rubbing of the belly was now an acceptable form of hello, depending on the person giving the greeting.

Inside there, I have no idea what you were thinking of what was going on. But we really couldn’t help ourselves.

Love, Dad

P.S. I’m all caught up now! This note to you was written only two days after it was supposed to be. Yay for being caught up!