I am borrowing Chelsea’s beautiful baby letter writing idea because it has brought me so much joy over the last two years. While reading her letters I kept hoping that one day I could give the same gift to my own baby. Well, the time has come.

Dear baby at 10 weeks (in utero):

This has been the most marvelous and difficult 8 weeks of my life. I keep asking myself, is this easier or harder than climbing Mount Kilimanjaro? Each time, the answer is without question, harder. Harder for a few reasons…

1. I haven’t quite figured out how to balance how dichotomous this experience is. On one hand I feel so excited and blessed and on the other so nauseous and miserable.
2.  I am so much more worried all the time about how you are doing in there when in truth I didn’t really care that much about how much my own body was doing when I was throwing up every 20 minutes on the mountain.
3.  Had I lost Kilimanjaro I would have been disappointed but If I loose you, I don’t know if I will ever fully recover.
4. And lastly, Kilimanjaro always seemed so much closer, and you on the other hand seem so far away.

How can I possibly wait until the end of April to meet you? I feel like I am 5 years old again waiting desperately for Santa Claus to come. Never would I have guessed then that the world’s best present was yet to come. You are going to be so much better than the Barbie vacation house.

For memory’s sake I should talk a bit about the nausea. I am not as bad as some, probably worse than others, but for me… this has been the biggest mountain I have ever climbed. One of the hardest parts is that the only consistency is that there is no consistency. It comes and goes or stays for the day. I never know which it’s going to be. The food repulsions and cravings have been interesting too. The other day I gagged at hearing the word “enchilada,” but an hour later “pizza” induced my gag reflex. This definitely works in extremes. The real problem comes when everything is disgusting but I know I have to eat. That’s when warm pasta with a little olive oil is what I pick. I have been eating a lot of that lately.

You have such a big job in there and I am trying my hardest to give you everything you need. Which unfortunately in this case is mostly coming in the form of a prenatal vitamin. I can barely get down a vegetable and mostly everything I eat is white. I did buy what is supposed to be the worlds best prenatal (or so the folks at Whole Foods tell me so) so lets hope you are getting all the nutrients you need. I am hoping my lack of dietary nutrition isn’t going to have too big of an impact on your developing brain. Just another thing I can’t help worrying about. Fortunately for you, your Daddy is the smartest person I know. You certainly have his brain genes and he has given you way more than you will ever need. So, if we loose a few on the way, you will still be brilliant.

You might wonder how I know you have your Daddy’s brain… a few weeks ago, just a few days after I learned that your brain was in it’s beginning developmental stages, I had a dream. The dream was filled with engineering blueprints and complex mathematical equations. Let’s just say….those definitely don’t come from me! Somehow your little brain hijacked my dream and I am thrilled. You keep working on those mathematical equations while inside my tummy and I will work on your emotional intelligence once you come out.

I am constantly battling trying to stay patient with wanting you in my arms right this instant. I can’t fall asleep at night because I am dreaming about your face, your hands and feet, your skin, your eyes, and how much I hope you are going to look just like your daddy.  I love you little baby.

a 10 week bump

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