So... this was started three weeks ago... but I got lazy. And distracted. And fat. I realize I have a few weeks to make up for. For now, here's a note to Tweet.
Dear Tweet,
How you doin' in there, baby girl? That's right... the secret is out. You, my dear are 100% pure chica-to-be.
When your pops and I went in for the ultrasound a couple of weeks ago, we were nervous and unsure... the decision was still technically up in the air as to whether or not we were going to find out the question we've been hammered with every day since we broke the news: Pink or Blue? Would your father have to learn how to braid, or would I have to purchase a Pee-Pee Tee-Pee?
Yes... there may have been some discussion for the past 21 weeks about whether or not we'd find out what you were going to be prior to the big day in October. But just prior to going in, I told your father that I absolutely wanted to know. And that was that.
As we're beginning to learn, everyone has an opinion on everything baby related. Or rather, "Why would you do it this way when you can do it this way?" related. So, that's been interesting. The only thing we've really figured out based on this phenomenon is that there are a GAZILLION ways of doing things... so I figure we've got just as good a shot as any of not screwing up, right?
But the decision to find out finally came down to the fact that your mother can't handle waiting for a surprise. It's a bit of a fault, I admit. I've been known to peek at Christmas... and your father has to go out of his way to pull one over on me. Why would we even think it possible that I could wait another 4 months for the biggest surprise of our lives?
You, my dear, were fast asleep on your tummy. You were breech, with your knees under you in child's pose while your arms were behind your head. Which... I guess?... is comfy? Your spine looked good, as did your brain, your kidneys, your heart and your legs and arms. You even waved to us with your right hand. Do you remember that? No? Cuz it's something we'll never forget.
We also got to see a glimpse of your face... albeit through the back of your head, but we got a pretty clear view. It was downright shocking at first. As in... 'HOLY COW! WAS THAT A FACE?' One day, I'll show you the DVD. It'll be just like when my mom and dad put up the screen and turned on the old projector. Only... probably less interesting as it's only in black and white and really... all you did was wave. At least when we watched the projector when I was a kid, we got to see me riding our pet cow. And no... before you ask, you cannot have one. We'll let you ride the cat, though... as she's almost as big as a cow.
Anyhoo, you wouldn't turn over no matter how much prodding with the ultrasound wand the technician gave you. In her words... you've got a mind of your own. Which means that you take after me... and your father doesn't stand a chance.
The technician really, really, REALLY tried to get you to turn over so we could get a profile shot, Tweet. But you were having none of it. We tried every position possible. Right side, left side... I'm pretty sure at one point I was standing on my head... but nothing worked. I was actually not okay with what the tech was doing to get you to wake up. I mean... if she wants to sleep, for the love of Pete, let her sleep! You were content to just snooze, and wave your little hand at us as if to give us some insight as to what you'll be like in 16 or so years after a night out toilet papering the mayors yard.
Not that your mom or any other living relative know anything about that kind of behavior.
*Ahem*
You were so content and relaxed, that we've started to call you our little Chillaxer. Not worried about anything. Not causing too much of a fuss. And if I may ask you one teeny-tiny favor.... PLEASE STAY THAT WAY AFTER YOU TAKE YOUR FIRST BREATH ON THIS EARTH!!!
Your father and I were so amazed when we first saw you on the screen. There are really no words to describe the feeling of seeing your baby for the first time. And when the technician broke the news that you, my dear, are a GIRL... well, the party that your father and I had in our hearts at the exact same time in that room is something that we'll try to explain and show you for the rest of your life. In effect, you made both of our hearts smile at the exact. same. time.
It's been three weeks since that big day, and I still haven't gotten over the fact that you're actually in there. And, occasionally, you remind me that... yep, you're awake! You kicks have been pretty subtle the last few weeks... I feel them, but your father is hit and miss. You need to start kicking just a leetle bit more so that he gets to feel you like I do. But, if you could kindly stay away from the liver, that would help me out A LOT.
All of your grandparents and aunties and uncles are so excited for you to come join us out here. But perhaps none of them are as impatient as your Papa. He would like you to have been here YESTERDAY. I keep telling him that you're still cooking in there... as evidenced by my 10 degree body temp difference.
But, me? I'm glad to just have you in me, with me... safe, happy, healthy... and chillaxin'.
I'll see you in a few months.
Love,
Mama
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