Baby boy,
How sentimental you've made me! Hardly does the ink dry on the last thank you note before another gift arrives at our doorstep. And the words I write in the cards - about feeling overwhelmingly blessed by support and kindness - are so, so true. Never in my 23 years have I been so weepy about a Christmas or birthday present. Now I see the blankets and toys for what they are - investments in our future, investments in you! - and I am undone with gratitude.
The thing about it is that we need these gifts. We need the car seat and the bath tub and the carrier and the quilt. It is new to me to be so needy, and our need seems to be bringing us more fully into society. The traditions around marriage and child rearing, which often seemed silly to my teenage self, make more sense to me now.
Arguably you are the still fastest growing little person in the family, but your dad and I are also doing our fair share of growth over here. Carrying a child is an important job that neither one of us takes lightly. Our conversations about how we will raise you are enthusiastic but careful. We are learning about trust, about loss, about patience...
Waiting for you is the neatest experience. All week I've been having these tiny little contractions. My stomach tightens all over and I start to imagine that timeless, cinematic moment when I get to look at Jason and smile shyly and say, "It's time now..."
My mom (your grandmother!) arrived in Tacoma last night. I am so excited to show her your bump! Sorry about all the noise and light in there last night; we were trying to make you move for Aunt Marion to see. Earlier that day I tried to record a video of you moving on my phone but you weren't very cooperative, and I gave up when I started to worry that the cancer rays from my cell phone might hurt you.
No big news from your 29th week of existence. We are occupied with trying to find tenants for the house, compiling a baby registry, and of course, marveling at you. And you, little guy, are marvelous indeed!
We love you.
From your mama.