I will get to meet you in 6 or 8 weeks or so. In the meantime, Sophie keeps talking to my belly, saying, “Hi Everett! I’m your big sister.” Your Daddy keeps greeting my belly, too. We are all looking forward to meeting you.
When Soph was in my belly, I sewed two quilts for her: one blue, one orange. She mostly ignores them now, although they are still hanging on her bedroom walls. For you, while you are in my belly, I have planted trees. I hope you will grow up eating the mandarin oranges and the California figs that I have been nurturing all summer while I nurture you, too.
On your bedroom wall, now, is a giant colorful painting by Sophie. Your bedroom is all set for you: it is green and white and feels very peaceful to me. It used to be our computer-room, but we moved the office to the living-room corner and actually prefer it that way, now that we have made room for you. Sophie is learning not to jump in your crib. The cat does keep sleeping on your changing table, though, because it is cozy. You already have a dresser full of hand-me-down clothes from our good friends, and a bin full of toys, and a closet full of more baby-gear than we can possibly use. You are coming in to a fabulous community. We can’t wait to show you around.
We thought of calling you Henry or Emerson or Oscar, but the name that has stuck is Everett Lewinnek Love. Sophie thinks we should call you Lollipop, too, and we probably will, although who knows how your nickname will evolve once we meet you.
You kick a lot: you’re already pretty strong and wiggly. I am just below the threshold for prenatal diabetes, which means my tummy isn’t taking care of sugar well, so you may be a large baby– but maybe not, because I have been careful to eat a low-carb diet ever since I failed my glocose test. Maybe you’ll grow up with a taste for almonds and cottage cheese, my main snack-foods now.
We took you camping last weekend, and swimming in the ocean too, and your daddy took this photo of us, so we could remember this time while we await your arrival.
My belly feels huge. I told your Dad that I feel like a bus, right now, and he said, “No, you’re just a bus-stop,” which made me laugh. When I laugh, you jiggle, and your Dad thinks we look like jiffy-pop popcorn.
Soon, soon, we will meet you. We love you already.