Oh Bean,

I hate to tell you this.  Tonight is not that great a night.  I was planning on telling you about all sorts of good stuff - like the adorable little easel and paint set your dad bought you for Christmas and set up in the garage right next to mine, or the baby shower I know they are planning for me in the office - and how I know for a fact they are trying to give us this beat up stroller they'd planned to give Jan last year, or how Kelly found this trick on the internet where she had to put my wedding ring on a piece of string and hold over my belly.  It's supposed to tell me if you are a boy or a girl depending on the way it spins.

Apparently according to this test you're a little of both, which Dwight claims he'd already predicted.

Michael, however, thinks you are definitely a boy.  Well - he hopes you are a boy - and then when (if) this documentary ever airs he wants your dad and me to star in a spin off called...are you ready?

Pam and Jim + Him.

Also he's not entirely convinced there's not nine of you in there.  He really wants me to beat the Octo-Mom.

Seriously.  I can't make this stuff up.

I was going to tell you all this but instead I'm hiding out in the bedroom while your father watches TV downstairs.

Because he's mad at me.

It's not really even that he's mad.  I think he's more hurt and upset and I know it's kinda my fault. 

OK.  It's pretty much all my fault.

A long time ago, before your father and I were actually together together we were completely horrible at really communicating.  We talked around subjects instead of about them, alluded to our feelings instead of showing them.  Basically it wasn't good.  At all.  We were both miserable most of the time.

It used to take us years to finally confront things.  I guess it says a lot that it now only takes a few hours.

So you can't say we didn't learn from our mistakes.

Anyway I can't even tell you what it's about, because I think it's just a lot of little things.  I'm really tired and just uncomfortable lately.  It's making me overly cranky and impatient.  And maybe a little bit jealous.

I love that you are on your way here Bean.  I really do.  But tonight I said something about this art course I found out is happening this summer and your father laughed and said something about that would be great except the timing is all off. 

And I don't know what it was, but that really bothered me.  It wasn't at all what he was saying, but I felt like he was talking about us, and about you, and about how all this ended up.  It's not the way we planned.  And I honestly wouldn't have changed a thing.  I don't know what happened.  I guess the realization of everything that's going on just hit me at once.

So tonight when we were talking about this I said something like "I can do whatever I want," and he agreed but sort of gave me a look that said, "But really, you can't so much anymore" and I don't even know why but I started yelling about how unfair that is and that it's ok for him to go to football games or play basketball on the weekend but I can't ever leave the house, and apparently will never be able to do anything ever again and how it was all his fault.

I kind of lost it.

I feel bad even writing this.  Please, please don't misunderstand me.  We're both so excited to be waiting for you.  We both love you so much already it's really crazy.  But I've been feeling lately like he gets to do all the fun stuff, like just run around and buy you things.  Meanwhile I'm getting so fat and none of my clothes fit (even some of the new maternity ones I bought), people ask me all sorts of really inappropriate and highly personal questions all day long and my entire life, not to mention my body changes more and more every day.

It's so weird.  There are some days where I barely recognize myself.

Bean, I'm not sure if you are a boy or a girl or if your hair will be curly or straight but here is one thing I already know.  You are going to be so incredibly stubborn.  Because although one of us always makes the first move to fix things on a night like this it usually takes an hour or two before one of us breaks. 

More often than not - it's your father who can't take it anymore and caves.  I know I take advantage of that far more often than I should.  Even tonight I can tell he is almost there. I can hear him, moving to the stairs and placing his foot on that creaky bottom step.  He's done it at least three times already but he must think twice about it whenever he does because he hasn't come upstairs yet.

I don't really want him to.  I know it's my turn tonight.

This all sounds so much more serious than it really is.  I don't want you to worry at all about this though.  When you get here you'll know that your Grandma and Grandpa Beesly aren't exactly together anymore.  All that just happened recently and I am trying to be okay with it but it's not easy.   Even when you are as old as I am you don't ever want to find out that the kind of relationship you thought your parents had was not what it seemed.  

This thing that happened tonight is not at all serious.  It's not something that's going to do any sort of major damage.  And my parents' problems have really just made me even more sure about what your dad and I have, not less. 

So I know it's all going to be okay.  We just need to talk about it.

If I am being honest, it would be better for me to tell him I'm scared and pretty much completely exhausted...and for me to tell him that I realize he is too. I know he's trying not to show it but he's been so worried lately about money and a bunch of other stuff all of which has to do with you. 

Sometimes I guess I forget that.  I forget that just because I'm the one carrying you doesn't mean his life isn't changing too. I know it is.  I know for a fact he's been working extremely hard lately to try and get some new clients.  He thinks he's being sneaky but I know he's really doing it so I don't have to rush back to work. 

He wants me to be able to have a choice.  I know he doesn't care if I sit at a reception desk or sell paper or if I did nothing but take care of you and maybe take some time to paint and work on my drawing.  It really would not make an ounce of difference to him.

He really just wants me to be happy.  It's that simple.

Part of the problem right now is that I want him to be happy too and I'm not sure he really is.  I know he's happy with me and happy about you but when it comes to work I'm not too sure.   I know it's not what he ever pictured himself doing.  I know he never thought he'd still be working here now.  He doesn't often talk about what he'd like to do instead, but I know that selling paper was not what he dreamed of doing when he grew up. 

Part of me feels really guilty, like he's stuck working there now only because of me.

Because of us.

I don't even know anymore if he's actually alright with it - or if he feels like he's stuck but I think I need to find out.

So right now I'm going to go downstairs and ask him what he really wants to do and to apologize for being such a brat and to just say thank you.

Among other things.

Wish me luck, even though I'm sure I don't really need it.

Love,
Mom