You like music. It’s like a magic trick. Your dad strums a chord on his guitar and you perk up. We went to the symphony on a school field trip a few weeks ago and you kicked the whole time. You seem to especially like it when your dad and I sing hymns. Whenever I want you to move, playing music is more reliable than eating something sugary. I wonder if you’ll like to dance on the outside too.
You’re busy pretty much all the time. I’m not sure what you’re doing in there, but it feels like gymnastics. You get especially active right around the time I’m ready for bed, so maybe you’re going to be a night owl like your dad.
You’re growing pretty quickly now. We both are. I’m starting to get bold questions from strangers asking when I’m due and knowing smiles from women who have done this before. People have lots of opinions about what a 29-week-pregnant mama should look like and they don’t hesitate to share them. My belly has become a magnet for other people’s hands and eyes and smiles. Your dad caught a glimpse of it the other night and burst out laughing with joy at how much you’ve grown.
I try to wear loose clothes to school because when my students can see you, they can’t concentrate on anything else. Today they were offering suggestions for your name and wanted to know how it was possible that you were kicking me in the ribs during spelling if you are in my tummy. During free draw time, they color pictures of babies in cribs for me, usually with an Ohio State banner on the wall above the crib. They think you’re going to be very smart because you’ve been listening to me teach third grade for a while.
We are so excited to meet you. Your dad texted me while we were both at work today and said he’s ready for you to be here. You need to grow for a while longer, but we’ll be ready when you are.