Letter to the Sesame Seed - Week 38

Well darlin',

Here we are again, up at an ungodly hour, trying to kill some time in the middle of the night. These late-night sleep breaks are happening more frequently, but at least I have the luxury of sleeping in most days.

Tomorrow is not one of them.

I'm going to get a haircut in the morning--don't worry, no drastic soccer mom chop--which wouldn't typically be noteworthy except for the fact that leaving the house these days is somewhat of a Herculean task. Simply getting dressed in the morning requires acrobatic skill; you wouldn't believe the panting and grunting elicited by putting on a pair of socks. Then there's the layering of sweaters, coats, scarves and other winter paraphernalia to keep the insane cold at bay. By the time I get down the stairs, into the car, and put my seat belt on, I feel like I've just finished a half an hour workout. Not to mention the immediate need to pee and/or eat. This is all before I've driven across town, braved parking on Newbury Street, and (very slowly) waddled a few blocks to my hairdresser's.

This is just to say I'm anticipating quite a production tomorrow, and I kind of wish I could catch up on some sleep to prepare.

But cest la vie.

We've had a very busy week, Sesame Seed. Deborah came over for our home visit on Monday to get the lay of the land, during which I learned two very important facts. First, as I expected, you had indeed "dropped" and are now firmly engaged head-down in my pelvic girdle. Very good news and a positive sign of progress. Second, I apparently have a nice wide pelvis. I've always known there would come a time when my large hips would provide some kind of advantage--since they've certainly never helped during swimsuit season.

Your daddy's birthday was on Tuesday and we celebrated by going out for the best pizza in Boston (a claim not to be taken lightly considering what a pizza connoisseur your father is) and watching South Park. There will come a time when you ask us why there are certain cartoons you are not allowed to watch, but that day is not today, my son.

Yesterday morning my midwife hosted a meeting for all of her expectant mothers to get together and chat about our fears, joys, expectations, and experiences. It was really fantastic to finally be surrounded by a group of like-minded women. It can be pretty lonely being a pregnant lady outside of the mainstream system; people who aren't actively opposed to your choices are often simply ignorant as to why someone would be "crazy" enough to attempt a natural home birth. Steadying myself against the stereotypical medicalized images of birth on tv, in books, and in people's conversations can be exhausting. So I am extraordinarily grateful to have had this chance to bond with women who not only understand, but celebrate, my choices.

After that meeting, I came home to meet with our new house cleaners. I can't tell you how thrilled I am to have some help in that department. I've spent months getting every nook and cranny of this house ready for your arrival: every closet, cupboard, drawer, and shelf is organized, every picture hung, every light fixture installed, every paint or touch up job complete, every piece of new baby gear or furniture in place. In short, this nest is as ready as it's going to be. The final step was to have a very thorough cleaning done by professionals.

Since I can't maintain cleaning duties in my current state, and I imagine I'll be even less able to do so once you arrive, we're going to have them come regularly for at least the next few months. This means that your father will no longer have to clean out the litter tray--a service for which he would gladly pay anything short of giving up his first born son (don't worry, I'll make sure he makes no Rumplestiltkinian bargains).

Having finished just about every item on my To Do list means I'm going to have some free time on my hands in the coming weeks. I imagine I'm going to go kind of stir crazy waiting for you to arrive, so I'm trying to figure out some activity to keep me occupied. People keep telling me to take up knitting. I don't know, wouldn't it be more fun if you had a mother who knew how to juggle fire?

Anyway, it's time to attempt to sleep again. I hope you're feeling nice and cozy in there (and starting to be just a little bit curious about the outside world).

I love you,
Mommy