First Letter

Dear Jorie,

This is my first letter to you. Right now I am 26 weeks pregnant with you.

 I'm having a hard time deciding what to say to you. Right now you're mostly an idea. A blurry shape on an ultrasound, some occasionally uncomfortable nudges inside my belly. It's hard to believe that in a little over three months you will be an actual tiny human being.

I wonder what you'll be like. If how you're acting right now is any indication, your father and I are in for a lot of trouble. You like to kick me early in the morning, it's almost like you're trying to get me up out of bed because you're hungry.

Sometimes I think you're bored in there, so you just start pushing or kicking on whatever is in front of you trying to get out. Although I'm sure you don't even know there's an out to get to. Even if you do, I'm sorry love, but you've got to stay in there a little while longer.

Out here waiting for you, you have a dog, named Mojo, and a cat, named Puck. Just the other day, you tried to say hello to Mojo. He seemed rather put off by your poking him in the nose. Puck, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice much when you were poking him the last time he was sitting on my tummy.

Your Father gets a huge smile on his face every time he gets to feel you kick. He likes to put his head in my lap and talk to you, although he never knows what to say. Most of the time, he ends up just going "Hellooooooo in there." Your father is a goofy guy.

We love you already.