Your nickname, for your time in utero, is BB. Aptly named because of our last name, you are Baby B*******. Of course, it also works out that bebe is the French word for baby, so you are cutesy already.
By the way, your dad and I have been getting boy vibes from you since the get-go, but now I wonder if you are a girl because you are SO hormonal. You are making me very ill. I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus. Jello-o muscles, I try to explain to your daddy. On the weekends I lay in bed with the spins until after 10, at which point I stumble down to the couch for the rest of the day. It is beautiful, fall, Maine weather outside and the weekends have been impeccable…but I stay within the confines of our house, bathroom in close proximity.
The headaches never lead down a pleasant path. The last one happened at your Auntie Lala’s house and I barely made it to her bathroom before barfing up the sweet potato fries I had devoured at dinner. Those used to be my favorite treat. Not so much anymore.
Your daddy is so excited for you. We only just moved into the house that we wanted in order bring you and your future brothers or sisters into the world. I would be helping him move furniture and unpacking, but we need to refer back to the Jell-o muscles. Daddy B has been amazing. Moving furniture out of the garage so that your mommy can park in there. He painted your nursery and every weekend he works so hard at making sure our house is looking more like a home for when you arrive.
Ugh, there you go making me all hormonal again. I was going to tell you all of the funny things that have been happening these past 8 weeks, but instead I start to get teary thinking about how excited we are for you. Reel it in, Mama!!