I am determined to keep up with your blog the way that we did with Maddie's, and to fill out your baby book (even though I will really have my hands full once you get here), just like we did with Maddie's. I hear that these things get progressively much harder with every child we'll have, but I will do my very best.
I feel kind of bad calling you "Baby Lute #2," but I want to assure you that you are only #2 in order. We're keeping your possible names a secret until we find out whether you are a girl or a boy, and then we'll announce your name to the world and stop calling you "#2."
I started my second trimester with you this week, and you are currently the size of a peach. This is really miraculous for two reasons. The first is that new life is such a miracle! The second is that you are only the size of a peach, and yet your mother looks like she has swallowed a very large honeydew melon. I don't know how keen I will be on taking weekly pictures of my belly this time, Baby. Maybe we'll do monthly pictures. (Dr. Paley, who is my new and favorite OB of all time, tells me that I look exactly right for having a second baby, and that I am carrying you very high, which accounts for my large honeydew-like belly protrusion. He knows just what to say.)
Maddie and I are snuggled up on the couch this morning as I write to you. We're waiting for it to get just a little warmer outside, and then we'll play on the playground for awhile. I bet you're going to love the playground, Baby. And you'll have your sister to play with, once you're big enough, which is just the coolest thing.
Would you like to hear about the weekend we first discovered we were going to have you? Well, we had just moved from Rhode Island to the Seattle area, and I was pretty sure I was pregnant. We stayed at your Memere's house for a few days before we flew out here, and I hadn't been feeling like myself. I was very, very tired, and I didn't feel like having a glass of red wine. (Baby, your mom doesn't drink very often, but if someone offers a nice cab or glass of merlot, I am not in the business of turning it down. Red wine can be lovely, but only once you are 21. If you try it before that, it will taste like cigar butts and earwax.) When we got to Washington, I bought a pregnancy test, and it was negative. Remarkably, I didn't feel disappointed, because I really was sure I was pregnant. We waited a few days, and then I tested again. I got the faintest of a second line, and I told your dad, "We're pregnant!" He squinted at the test and said, "Where? What? I don't see anything!" Let me tell you, Baby, there was definitely a second line on that test. So I started picking out your crib bedding and stopped drinking coffee, and your dad was determined not to get his hopes up. A couple of days later, I took a digital test, and it was unmistakable.
We saw your sweet little heart beating away at my 8 week ultrasound, and saw you again at my 12 week ultrasound. You looked very much like a baby at that one. As soon as Dr. Paley put the ultrasound wand on my belly, we saw you on the screen, and you turned and looked right at your dad. I bet you even winked. (Well, maybe not. I think your eyelids are technically still fused shut.)
That's you, Baby. And let me tell you, we are so excited to meet you. I'm not horrendously sick anymore, thanks to Zofran (who has been my bff for two pregnancies, now), and I'm counting the months until January. (That's when you are due -- January 15th.) I'll write again soon, Baby. I hope you are finding my uterus very comfortable, and that you are enjoying all of the amenities, such as three meals a day and free high-speed internet.