littlest one

You and I, we have kind of a relaxed, unspoken thing going on, don't we? I don't obsess about you the way I did with Daniel. I don't look up how big you are every week on Baby Center.com. I don't rush to Google to ask whether it's OK to drink chamomile tea or if it's bad if I wake up at night lying on my back. I drink coffee every day and eat the occasional tuna salad sandwich. I even had a glass of wine with dinner last month (oh, how I miss red wine) and sipped some of your dad's Chardonnay at Thanksgiving. I don't worry so much, and it's kind of nice. Maybe part of it is that I've been here before, so I know the ropes a little more. Or that you survived early on, when I thought you might have died, so I know you're a survivor, and the midwife says you're doing fine. Or maybe it's just how busy I am day to day, taking care of your brother (whom you are going to love, by the way). Still, we have our moments together, don't we? I felt you kicking in class this morning, and I put my fingers on top of you and felt you dancing around in there. I would have said hello, but we were in class, and it wasn't a good time to talk. Don't worry ... I'll check in with you next time you're awake. We have a few more months together before we meet in person. It's cold outside, but you don't have to worry about that. I hope you're comfy and warm right now. By the time you're ready to come out, the earth will be thawing, and we'll have a lovely spring and summer ahead of us. Until then, keep on kicking. It's always nice to hear from you.