Jellybean,

It's really not fair what you're doing to your father.

I'm not even going to talk about how swollen my ankles are and well, how honestly everything else has swelled up too.

I'm not going to tell you how I can't seem to get more than two hours of sleep at a time, how I waddle like a duck now, how Michael asked your father if my boobs were in fact as big as watermelons or if it is an optical illusion.

But really - it's not about me right now.

You're going to give the man a heart attack.

Please stop it.  I'm going to need him when you get here.

Bean - I'm not sure what your issue is.  I think maybe you just like it in there.  And there was a time I was praying that you'd stay put but now I think you need to come out already.

Even as I say that I'm wondering if we could possibly do this some other way.

Maybe you do just stay in there. 

I mean, I think we still have the receipt for the car seat and carriage.  I can just carry you around this way for a little while longer. 

You see I know how to take care of you while you're in there but I'm not really sure what to do when you get out.

I'm not working anymore (I haven't been for like two and a half weeks) which is good and bad.  Good because I am so uncomfortable and huge that just getting dressed anymore is like running a marathon and at home I can stay in yoga pants and sweatshirts. 

Good because I don't have Kevin stopping by my desk every hour to try and look down my shirt which is really so creepy and weird and inappropriate.   

Bad because it's insanely boring being home all day.  And I really miss your dad.

I know.  Shut up.  I really like him though.

It's not the first time I've been away from him all day - far from it - but it's kind of worse now because I'm so used to being around him all the time.  About 5 times a day I find myself talking to him like he's sitting next to me.

Because he is on the verge of a nervous breakdown I can't even call him much because every time I do his voice has this really weird, urgent, anxious sound to it.  He doesn't sound like himself and that bothers me. 

Mostly because I just really like the sound of his normal voice. 

When I call him our conversations go something like this:

Me: "Hey."

Him: "Are you OK? Is it...?"

Come to think of it - that's how we start every conversation now.  When I call him at work I try and distract him by asking him what Dwight is doing or telling him who Ellen has on today but it's not really working.  If I don't call him it's almost worse.

He comes home every day at lunch and I have to push him back out the door.  It's like he never believes what I say anymore.

Trust me - if you were on your way I'd make sure he knows it.

I don't want to make you nervous.  We're ready.  I really think we are.  Everything in the house has been baby proofed.  We've got your room all set up - even though you probably won't sleep in there for a while yet.  We've got bottles and diapers and a cute bathtub shaped like a duck.  The guest room and the sofa bed have clean sheets.

Both your grandmas want to be there too, so your dad will have to call them like the minute I go into labor so that they can get here on time. 

It's so weird but that's the thing he's focused on and is freaking out the most about.

I can't tell you how many times he's talked about it - how worried he is that one or both of them won't get there in time.  He listens to the traffic report every morning thinking that's going to give him some sort of heads up.  

I think he's just afraid of what it'll be like if it's just you and the two of us.

So am I, if I'm being honest, but I think it's getting to the point where your not being here is stressing us out more than you actually being here.

Even though I know I'll have some help in the beginning I've read everything I could get my hands on.  Well, that is until I stumble on something too scary and stop.  But that usually had to do with what's going to happen to me and not you. 

You?  You're perfect.  I can tell that already.

I went to the doctor today and she's not making it any easier.  When we left she laughed and said "Okay!  See you in a week - or maybe in a few hours.  You never know."

Nice right?

But I'm not kidding.  I'm worried about him.  I can't move without him jumping, I can't make a noise without him asking me if I'm alright.  I really think he might faint in the delivery room.

He's losing it Bean.  Big time.

It will not be good if he loses it.

Let's settle on a day okay?  How about Friday night?  I think that's the best option.  It'll be the weekend, your father will be home and not at work.  The Grandmas can drive here without too much traffic if you come late enough.

What do you say?

The part of me that's not terrified cannot wait to meet you.  I can't really fathom what it's going to be like - to have a piece of me and your father walking around. 

When I imagine you I imagine the best parts of both of us.  I really feel like that's what you will be.  I think you'll be able to draw well and play volley ball.  You'll be a great listener and really easy going like your dad.   You'll have a great sense of humor, enjoy the beauty of a perfectly executed prank and know how to think quickly on your feet.

You're going to be the greatest thing ever.  I just know it.

See you soon!

Hopefully.

Love,

Mom