Listen here you.   We need to have a little discussion. 

Two weeks ago I had no idea that you were on your way.  Now you have made it your mission to remind me every single minute.

OK.  I might be exaggerating - but it certainly seems that way.

Really.  The puking?  It has to stop.

I can't keep a thing down.  It doesn't matter what I eat or when I eat it.  I'm eating saltines and plain pasta by the case.  Plus you are sucking the life out of me.  Anything I do manage to keep down you're greedily hanging onto so I am completely drained to the point of falling asleep at my desk.

Not like nodding off - I'm talking full on naps.

I guess this might be retaliation for the fact that one night after work I drank half a beer before I remembered that I shouldn't be drinking because I have you hanging out in there. 

If you come into this world with a taste for Corona Light with lime I'll take full responsibility.

By the way your father thinks all this is completely hilarious.

I'm going to apologize now if by chance he is not around when you get here.  I just might kill him and you just might be born while I'm incarcerated.

But probably not.  If I'm being honest he's pretty handy to have around.  And then there's the my being insanely in love with him thing.

He's really lucky about that.

Since I think my stomach is settled for the moment let me tell you what's new.  We finally went to the doctor and she's great.  I was really nervous but I'm a little less so now.

She's definitely going to take good care of us.

Anyway - it was not very exciting.  Just a lot of routine tests and stuff.  We got to see you real quick - but we couldn't see much.  You really are tiny - exactly like a little bean.

Oh that reminds me.  If you don't mind, for the purposes of these letters I'm going to keep calling you Jellybean.  For one thing I think it sounds cute and for another (and this is going to sound weird and/or gross - I apologize) your dad insists that once upon a time I used them as a method to seduce him.

Sorry.  That will end the extremely inappropriate and creepy part of this letter.  I promise.

Just so you know, we've only told a very few people about you.  Your grandparents (who are beyond excited by the way) and our family mostly.  No one at work knows - except the camera crew.

I guess maybe I should explain that one.

About 5 years ago this camera crew came to film a documentary about Dunder-Mifflin - the place where your father and I work.  It took a while but we've finally gotten used to them I think.  It's like they're sort of our friends now in a weird way.  Anyway - they were with us when we went to the hospital and your father - without saying a word really - kind of gave them the impression that you might be on your way. 

I actually can't wait to see that footage, because let me tell you Bean, the look on his face that day was completely priceless.

Your father has a very expressive face.  When you meet him you'll understand.

We're still not 100% sure when you'll be here but the doctor is saying probably sometime in February.  We'll be going back in a couple of weeks to try and narrow it down a bit more.

In the meantime we are trying to figure out what to do about getting married.  We're torn between a medium size wedding (inviting more than just our families) and just running off one weekend by ourselves.  I kind of don't want to completely rush things just because you are on the way - but I also don't want to have to wear a gown the size of a tent.  Plus I can't really justify spending thousands of dollars on a wedding when we can use all the money we can get to fix up your room and get ready for you in general.

I can't wait to do that.  It's going to be really fun.

Your dad wants me to paint something like mural and I think that'll be cool, but I'm having trouble figuring out what I should do.  I've also never done that before.  I figure whatever I do it can't be any worse than the freakish clown painting we still can't get off the wall downstairs.  (Don't ask.) 

We don't think we're going to find out what you're going to be till you actually get here.  I think there are very few things in this life that are truly a surprise.  But who knows.  I might change my mind.  It might be nice to know what kind of colors to use or clothes to buy.

So there you go.  The latest and greatest is that I'm tired and cranky and overall miserable for a good eight hours a day.  I haven't gained too much weight (because I can't seem to hold onto food long enough for it to digest) but even still I don't know how much longer we are going to be able to fool people.  I mean, I noticed today that Dwight was furiously writing down notes while staring intently at me.

It could totally be related to work - or he absolutely could be trying to figure out when I had my last period.

If he figures it out before your father and I do I'm going to be really annoyed.

Not to mention totally creeped out.

Well that's quite a note to leave on.  Sooo.  I'm gonna say goodnight little Bean.  Let's call a truce alright?

I promise to let you stay up late on holidays and non-school nights if you'll just let me enjoy my breakfast for at least two mornings this week.

Two.  That's all I ask.

Deal?

Love you,

Mom