What we know about you already

Connor or Mary Kate,

Whichever name ends up being yours, I am learning more about you by the minute. My sweet child, I love you more than I can comprehend. You are the answer to a dream and a prayer I have had since my first Madame Alexander doll, my first cabbage patch kid, my first "my buddy" and "kid sister." But, little miss or mister, I am on to you. I know some things about you already. I am your mother and you will be able to hide very little from me, just as you are not able to do so now.

For instance, you have not been the most active of babies in utero. You can be coy and your movements always make me stop and enjoy them because they are not abundantly made. But yesterday, with every one of the 30 contractions I had, you chose that time to move. You added a couple degrees of pain to your poor, tired mama by choosing those moments to practice the acrobatics you have hidden from us most of these 9.5 months. And the other day, when you moved only once or twice in 2 hours, FREAKING MAMA OUT, you again played coy until I called the doctor and looked like a dramatic, lunatic first time mother. The millisecond I got off the phone with the doctor, you played gymnast again. I'm glad you affirmed your health in there, but next time, can you plllease do that before I call the doctor?

I'm also on to how much you love the comfort of mama's expanding belly. For three days, you have made me think you wanted to come out. First for three hours, then for four, and then for SEVEN hours yesterday, you convinced me you wanted to come out to play with dad and Monty and I. I was sure I was going to get my yankee doodle baby. But again, once I called the doctor at 10pm, you decided you'd had enough. You either changed your mind, or more likely, decided you'd teased your poor, defenseless mother enough. Kid, that was so not nice. Thank goodness I know what we (and Aetna) are paying the doctor or I would feel very badly for interrupting her party. I am learning that the quickest way to get you to change your behavior pattern is to call the doctor. As soon as mama looks like a goof, you are ready to cooperate. I am afraid this may become a pattern for you, making mama humble.

I am learning too that you march to the beat of your own little drum. Lots of friends have suggested many, many ways to getting labor going. None of them matter to you a bit. I am milking the whole 'get a foot rub thing' from dad and justfied a pedicure for the same reason. I have taken more walks in the last week than the whole nine months with you. And while I'm still not eating a jalapeno or eggplant, you don't seem to be affected at all by these tried and true methods of making baby come. I kind of like that about you though. While I'm slightly crazy to meet you, I hope you continue to do the unexpected.

And little person, if you want a couple more days (I'm only giving you days m'love), you can have it. Because you have been safe and sound and happy in there for 9.5 months. You have done your job well, growing and staying healthy. And I am so, so grateful today that, if God continues to answer all my prayers, you will be born healthy. I know of a little boy, Bennett, who I have prayed for for many weeks. My heart breaks that he was born at only a pound and a few ounces. So today, as I looked at his teeny, tiny feet, I decided that if you want to stay put and come out a little chunkier, I can handle that just fine. Because what I know most about you already is that my heart explodes with love for you. And even if you make me crazy, teasing me with contractions for another week, my heart will still explode for you.

Come on out babe, or stay put- just know that we already know we adore you.