27 weeks, 3rd Trimester

Dear John,

Can I call you John? That is, after all, your name. It's what we call you at home because I figure it's going to be confusing enough to Annie to have a new baby in the house, much less one that we called Boom for 9 months, only to now refer to it as something that is slightly less exciting. So you are our John. Or as Annie says, Joan.

 

I would like to apologize in advance for the complete shaft you have gotten in the posting department. There are several things going on here. First, when I was pregnant with your sister, I didn't have your sister running around and zapping every ounce of energy and creativity out of me on a daily basis. Don't get me wrong, I love every minute of it, but after an afternoon of playing in rain puddles and "washing" princesses and squirreling pine cones in every orifice of a dead (or about to be dead, thanks to us) tree in our neighbor's yard, blogging just seems to.....not happen. And then there's the fact that we don't have a home computer anymore. Well, we do, but Rick has it all rigged up to the TV and it's doing something very fancy and you can't move it or else all our memories (both human and computer) will be erased and all hell will break loose. So no touchie the computer, which means that I could type up a post on an iPad, but that just sounds like torture. And I don't need more torture.

 

Which brings me to what I suspect might be the main reason. My mother told me if I don't have anything nice to say, then don't say anything at all. Or she might have said for me to call her and tell her all the not nice things, but either way, I am pretty sure I don't want all my cliché pregnancy woes to be documented for all time on the internet. Plus, whiny pregnant ladies are pretty boring and I am well aware that there are MANY out there that would give anything to be where I am, so I shut up and deal. I will say that this pregnancy has been very different than the one with your sister. My body is older, I am more tired, and the fact of the matter is I just can't hang like I used to. So I am sorry, sweet boy, that the whole thing isn't as well documented as Annie's, and you won't likely have a BOOK made out of the posts I wrote about your pregnancy like your Dad did for Super, but know that you were loved every step of the way, even if it's not all over the internet.



 

 

27 weeks+2 days.

 

 

A positive difference to this pregnancy is that I don't feel like such a maniac. I felt in a near constant state of panic when I thought about getting ready for Annie. Now, the room is finished (adjusted colors for Annie's new roommate) and we have sorted clothes for you, we already have all the big ticket items, and it's just a waiting game at this point. And I think I was much more emotional (read: crazy) with your sister. I remember some pretty massive melt-downs over lord knows what (HOW ARE THERE SO MANY KINDS OF PREGNANCY PILLOWS? HOW CAN I EVER DECIDE? I WILL SURELY GIVE BIRTH BEFORE I MAKE UP MY MIND AND WHAT IF I CHOOSE THE WRONG ONE????-true story). Now, don't get me wrong, I am by no means all tranquil and logical over here, but my meltdowns have been over completely sane things like feeling like my body is not my own and how freaking tired I am. Trust that in the grand scheme of things that pregnant women can freak out about, these are pretty standard. Rick might feel differently though. Perhaps he learned from the first time around to just nod, agree, and run for cover instead of engaging the beast. Either way, it seems to be working out.

 

We are officially in the home stretch here. 12 weeks and 5 days left. I have one more monthly doctor's visit before we switch to bi-weekly (or is it bi-monthly? I can't EVER keep those straight-we go every two weeks...back off). There's hospital talk and planning and discussions about where I will nurse you and where we will put the bassinet. There are fuzzy sleepers in a drawer and the boppy has been washed and ready for action. We are getting to the good stuff, and I plan to focus on that from now until I see your face. Can't wait.

 

Love,

Mom