Dear Sweet Babe,
The prenatal handbook from my doctor's office reads like this: "Week Fourteen-Seventeen: Time for a different wardrobe." Um, look at the belly changes between 12 and 15 weeks. Time for different wardrobe is right!!
I finally broke down and bought some maternity pants. Ugh. Nothing is worse than spending money on clothes you will wear for 25 weeks, then be so glad to get rid of you'll want to hold a pants-burning party in your backyard. But, the belly has spoken. No more half-zipped zippers and rubber-banded buttons. Stretch material, all the way.
About a week ago I had a checkup, heard your heartbeat, and confirmed my uterus is taking up serious residence in the belly. At 16 weeks, it's practically to my belly button. You've got lots of room to maneuver in there. And maneuver you do. In a week fraught with emotion and difficult decisions, you've been dancing and thumping and flipping and making your presence very much felt. Thanks for that. You especially liked the tuna melt dinner. (As did I. Good taste.)
I'm looking forward to seeing you soon. In about 11 days, we'll find out for sure whether you're a him or a her, though prevailing opinion in this household is that we're carrying a baby girl. I'm looking forward to knowing for sure. Mostly because I'm needing to connect with you. It's been a rough road so far, little baby, and I haven't been exactly expectant with hope. I've been stressed and fearful, overwhelmed and cautious. God keeps whispering in my ear, "I've got this. She's mine. Making babies is my joy." So I'm doing my best to rest and let God take care of the details.
So until then, you're loved, little baby. And so am I. Loved by the King. That's a safe enough place for both of us to rest for now.