Hank the Dog and I made room for Sean on the couch (Hank sleeping on my feet is a very important component of sermon writing.) Sean brought over a plastic bag promisingly full of gifts (unwrapped gifts=maximum freshness.) I started with the card: the cover features an illustration of a very pregnant lady in profile and the words "Kick! Kick! Kick!" emanating from her belly. The message inside: "Translation: Happy Mommy's Day from You-Know-Who!"
Voldemort? Nooooooooo! Run, Harry Potter!
Obviously, I loved this card even before I read Sean's message. As you will see, I was about to love it even more.
I was so excited when little Scooter asked me to share a few thoughts in this card. What a wonderful mother you are and you will be! When I see you, so content, so happy, with your hands resting on your belly (not so big as the front of this card yet) I get such a thrill! Soon we will hold our little Scooter, but you are holding our little Scooter every day--what a wonderful, uncomfortable miracle. All of my love x2. Mwah!
You are maybe starting to notice a theme in these blog posts. The theme is crying. My happy crying woke up Hank, who was concerned. After sniffing at my face a bit he sat down next to me very calmly and put his head on my belly. From the way he lingered with his big ear there and the thoughtful look on his face, we wondered if he could hear the baby.
We've read in our baby books that, at this stage, Little Scooter can probably hear us. I am hoping Little Scooter likes my sermons. Sean has started directly addressing the belly: "Hey Baby!" he says. "I'm your daddy!" There's a theory (not scientific) that playing music for the baby helps with brain development--Mozart, in particular, is a popular choice among fetal geniuses. As I went back into the plastic bag of presents, I pulled out a three CD set of the Best of Mozart along with a pair of big, padded, new/old school head phones. Perfect.
I was spectacularly sick last night--clean up required a mop. After getting me cleanly and safely to bed, getting Hank into his crate and getting a bucket for me and another bucket for the mop, Sean commented, wryly, "One thing we know for sure: the baby does not care for Mozart." As sick as I was, I was more happy and content in that moment than words can tell. I put my hands on my little baby belly and said about a thousand thanksgivings. What a wonderful, uncomfortable miracle!