Dear Baby

Ouch. I know you probably feel cramped in there, but I think you may have cracked one of my ribs tonight. You are also head butting my cervix, which I hear is good for getting things going, but do you think you could stop for a few hours? Please? Mama needs sleep.

You see, your big sister has been sick since last Thursday. Actually she had a cold before that, but she has been really sick since Thursday with high fevers, pain and crankiness. Despite the tubes, she has a lovely ear infection. Truth be told, this is the worst infection yet. The doctor speculated that dried blood from the procedure may have blocked a tube and prevented it from draining. This gave the bacteria a place to thrive until the pressure built and built and your sister's ear exploded. She hasn't been sleeping well as a result. And now her hair is matted with ear drainage which is vile, vile stuff. She hasn't been to school since Thursday and I haven't had a nap since she has been home. I need a nap. Forget Brad Pitt: my fantasies now involve eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. But I would settle for five or six.

The doctor says you could arrive anytime now. I'm so looking forward to meeting you, but can you give us just another couple of days? Your sister's furniture should be painted by tomorrow-- even if I have to do it myself--and I have cleaners coming. So the house will be ready soon. If I can just rest up a little before giving birth, I think we will both be better off for it.

Plus, your sister and I have not had much quality time during the last week. Quantity time, yes. Lot's of that. But it is hard to have quality time when someone is screaming from pain and is generally very cranky. We've watched way too much TV and now I have the theme to several children's programs stuck in an endless loop running through my head. I have a Ph.D. and I have been reduced to humming along to a Higley Town Heros, Doodlebops, and Signing Times medley. It isn't right.

We'll get to see you Wednesday one way or another. I'm measuring small so the OB just wants to take a quick peak and make sure things are OK. I still don't know your gender, but your grandmother (the one attached to her cell phone) insists you are a boy. If you are, that is OK, but we are going to have to go shopping unless you are into pink ruffles. Not that there is anything wrong with that.

Hang in there another couple of days, my lovely one. There is a big world out here waiting. I can't wait to show it to you.

All my love.