Reflections // a letter at 20 weeks

Dear baby,

I always thought I would be the girl that took weekly photos and made weekly notes about my pregnancies.

But as it turns out....I was wrong.

So here I am at 20 weeks and the only documentation I have of my pregnancy is our announcement post and some emails to my mom. This doesn't mean the pregnancy isn't going well. Actually, it means literally the opposite. Most of the time, I don't even remember it's happening!

However, something feels significant about reaching 20 weeks-and I think it's time I wrote something down.

Firstly, thank you for the lack of morning sickness-it has made a world of difference in my current life as a traveler.

Second, I first started feeling you move during week 16. My favorite position to read is on my tummy with a fluffy pillow under my chest, and I was due for a re-read of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. At first I thought you were indigestion, but as I kept reading and waiting for the sensation to stop I realized that it was too regular and fluid of a motion. After experimenting for a few days, I decided that it really was you. So while I don't have a set "first kick", I do know that you move enough for me to be sure that you're energetic!

Daddy felt you kick for the first time during week 17, on August 1st, when we hiked Mt. Mitake just outside of Tokyo. You were not happy about climbing all of these stairs with me:

But wasn't this view worth it?

I hiked a few flights of those stairs, going slow and breathing deeply, when I started to feel you kick stronger than you ever had before-enough that I knew if we could get daddy's hand on my tummy he would be able to feel it too. But of course, then you got stage fright and didn't kick. So I ran up another flight of stairs to get you kicking. I would say I'm sorry, but daddy's face was so worth getting you a little mad! I've never seen him happier! Only three days before our second anniversary, I think it was the best way to mark the happiest two years!

At five months pregnant most people peg me as being about three months along. Welcome to the family of small people baby dear, I hope you can forgive us for making you small. I have gained about 8 pounds in total. You are my wee one.

Daddy and I sing you this lullaby as often as we can remember to, which is probably about every other night. We plan on making it our song with you, if that's alright.

We're also pretty sure you know the Dr. Who opening credits song, because that always gets you kicking. But we're not going to play that for you when we want you to go to sleep. Maybe during dinner when we need you to eat your vegetables.

The last thing I want to document is that I think we are actually best friends and kindred spirits. Most of the pregnancy documentations I have come across describe baby's movements or other little parts of pregnancy as special, tender, serene, precious, and private. I always thought that would be me too, taking in the little moments by myself-treasuring my baby forever. However, it has been exactly the opposite. Every time I feel you move my instant reaction is to give the nearest person a high five. I always tell daddy you're kicking when he is mid-sentence (but he never minds the interruptions, he enjoys it, and those smiles I tell you are worth all of the brownie batter I'm missing out on).

I feel like I am your biggest cheerleader already, but also that we're actually on the same team and I'm just cheering from the dugout. When I picture you it is so difficult for me to imagine a newborn. I see me and my toddler going hiking, or me and my teen going out for an ice cream date. I see a life with you not as my child but as my sidekick, until eventually the tables turn and I am your sidekick-which I picture happening around the age of 3. It's difficult for me to grasp the sacredness  of pregnancy which I am positive other women are feeling. I believe we know each other from a life before this, and therefore being friends already isn't out of the question-we'll just have to remember how it goes. It will be the best journey, I am sure.

I promise to take care of you. To swaddle you and clean your ears. All I ask in return is a few "I love you"s, if that's okay.

Oh, and daddy can't wait to carry you around on his shoulders. Also he calls strollers "baby cars". And he probably wants a baby carrier more than I do. What can I say, your dad is the coolest.

Love,
Mommy
(ps. how long will it take for me to get used to that title?)