Week 28 - Come Out and Play

Dear Kaylee,

I’m almost certain that the highlight of your week was also the highlight of ours. On Saturday evening, your mom and I (with you in tow, in utero) drove one town south of our home in Merrimack to visit our college friend Stacey, who was throwing a Christmas party and Yankee swap. We saw some old friends we hadn’t seen in ages, we met a couple of new folks, and we marveled at the antics of the party’s youngest attendee, a precocious toddler who seemed to enjoy walking backward more than he liked walking forward. Amidst all of this, your mom could feel you kicking and bouncing up a storm. Either you were pissed off and wanted peace and quiet or you were wishing you could come out and play.

I prefer to think it was that you wished you could come out and play.

At the end of this week, your mom reached the third trimester of pregnancy and you were one step closer to making your debut. Heightwise, you were closing in on 14 inches, and, in terms of weight, you were nearing three pounds. The fact that your kicks were getting stronger was a good thing, and my reading indicated that your movements would continue to be felt more intensely by your mother, with each passing week, for at least the next month, which is when you would begin to run out of room.

Though we continued to be woefully behind on getting your room ready, I was growing ever more anxious to hold you in my arms and to look at you for the first time. Your mother, being the patient one, the sane one, reminded me that you weren’t ready to arrive yet. And I did my best to listen to her, to heed her words. But — and maybe this has something to do with the fact that I’ve been writing you these letters each week — I felt like it was way past time for you to come out and play. I felt, I guess, sort of like I missed you, even though we’d never seen each other yet.

So, anyway… knowing that it would be a while yet before we’d get to have fun together here in the outside world, I started talking to you through your mom’s belly a little bit more often. And this week I started singing to you, as well. I wonder how it sounded in there. I wonder a lot of things, I guess, but it’s that wondering, that imagining, that makes me smile, that makes me feel good about myself and the world, about my wife and my baby, so I’ll just keep on wondering. And I’ll hope that you end up with an imagination that’s as valuable a companion to you as it has always been to me.

Love, Dad

LettersE. Christopher Clark