Time for July’s letter, #5, and telling our first child about his/her heritage. The letters are starting to creep up in word count, as I feel a slight pressure to hurry and say anything I want our little bit to know before the big October birthday.
Baby Letter– July
Hello Nemo,
It is July now, and you and I are finishing up our second trimester. On the one hand, I am nervous to enter the third trimester because number two has been so fabulous to us, but on the other hand, I am dying to meet you and I honestly want the wait over as soon as possible.
You are 25 weeks in uterus age, and most days you are discontent with the size of my abdomen. You measure just over a foot long, and you are somewhere between 1.5 and 2 pounds. You kick, punch, and head butt me every hour to let me know that a little more room would be appreciated. You are absolutely killing me with rib pain. I am incredibly sore, especially on the right side, where you really like to rest your feet. You hate when I bend over or crouch, and you protest any time something presses against my stomach (like a countertop). I’m sorry to tell you this kid, but the rooming situation is only going to get more squeezy as we continue. My stomach will grow some more, but you will grow much faster. Get used to the taste of your kneecaps now.
I always tell your dad when you are really going at it because I love for him to feel you move. However, 90% of the time, you freeze up as soon as Dad puts his hand on my stomach. He thinks you are just calm in his presence. I think you like to make me look silly.
Very recently, I’ve been able to catch glimpses of you moving. When you are particularly wound up, if I watch my stomach closely, it twitches back and forth. And it’s very rare that I can’t feel you with my hands pretty much any time I want to. By now, you are surely used to the sensation of me rubbing and patting you almost constantly. It might not sound that pleasant, having a little monster roll around inside your tummy, but I love it. This has been hands down the coolest part of being pregnant with you. I could sit and do nothing but feel you move for hours.
You’re starting to put on some fat now, which is a very good thing. Most creatures that are a foot long and barely two pounds aren’t that cute. You have hair, and if we could see through my skin, we would know what color it is. Although the odds of you being anything other than lily-white, brunette, and blue-eyed are pretty slim. If you could see Mom and Dad yet, you would know why. But Mom was blonde as a baby and the Bullards have some red hair in the family, so it’s not a totally done deal. You also have a more developed sense of hearing now, and you can recognize Mom and Dad’s voices. You probably are already used to the sound of your dogs barking. Please, please be used to it for the sake of our future naptimes.
I was very excited for this month, because we have hit a major milestone, your biggest one by lifetimes — viability. If something were to happen to us now, and for whatever reason you had to be born, your doctors have a good chance at saving you. Before 24 weeks, you just can’t survive outside of my body. The odds are so tiny that most hospitals won’t even try. But now we’ve hit the magic word, viability. Now even if you came far too early, we would still probably get to bring you home (eventually). Your odds of being healthy rise dramatically every week though, so I want you to stay put. Are you listening? Stay right where you are, and let your body finish growing.
We have done a complete 180 from the days when I could barely eat a saltine cracker. You and I eat everything. Sort of all the time. You love peanut butter and banana sandwiches (jelly is so last month), peaches, Mexican food (with as much verde sauce as possible), cheese anything, tabbouleh and hummus, yogurt with fruit, and flavored pretzels. You are still in love with milk — two cartons doesn’t quite last us a week.
And your absolute favorite food at the moment: collard greens. I am so, so proud of you, my charming Southern lady/gentleman, because you are upholding the family honor with your love for greens. I make a batch most nights, load them with red pepper and Texas Pete, and eat every last bite in the bowl, juice and all. Dad is not a lover of greens, and so some nights I make a different vegetable to go with dinner, and the greens are just for you and me. It’s ok. We don’t like sharing.
The big news for this month is that Mom & Dad have picked out your name. I’m not going to write what the winners are, for two reasons: 1) Mom lets other people read these letters, and we’re not giving anyone a chance to voice their opinion on our chosen names, and 2) The name we picked for the sex that you are not might be given to a sibling in the future. But I wanted you to know that we came to a consensus, and your name is ready. I practice them with you sometimes, so maybe it will sound familiar and comforting when you hear it on your birthday. Either way, I hope you like it. I think it’s pretty great.
For this month’s theme we’re going patriotic. I got the idea that for July’s letter, maybe we would talk a little about your heritage, since it’s the month of Independence Day and all.
On Dad’s side, you’re a combination of English and German, and purportedly some Native American (although you certainly wouldn’t peg that one by looking at Dad). On Mom’s side, you’re English and French, but mostly Russian Jewish. It will be interesting in the epic Battle-of-Your-Hair to see if Mom’s Jewish ringlets or Dad’s straw-straight farm boy wins out.
Really, your wild mix makes you American more than anything else. We are a country of blended and diverse backgrounds, and that’s truly one of the best things about us. You are blessed to be born here. It is a wonderful thing; not in every regard, but in some ways, truly spectacular. Being an American means different things to different people, but I wanted to tell you a little about what it means to your parents.
America began as the idea that a passionate, driven group could effect great change, even against a seemingly overwhelming oppressor. Our history is not without mistakes or persecution, but on the whole, we strive to continuously correct and be better than before. The subjugated are always at the forefront of their own liberation, with the support and help of many friends in their ranks. This idea of liberation is the best part of us, the most noble we can be. I hope that in your life, when you recognize people being treated unfairly, you will rush to their defense — especially when you could easily turn a blind eye. That is the only way to honor the brave men and women you came before you, and sacrificed so that you could enjoy all the freedoms that will be yours from the moment you are born. You must carry the banner forward in our never-ending quest for a perfectly equal society.
You will inevitably meet people who think that being American means being like them. I want you to always remember that American doesn’t mean looking a certain way or following a strict set of beliefs. And it certainly doesn’t mean flying a flag on your porch or wearing a bald eagle t-shirt. Those are shallow ideas of being American, and they are held by people who choose not to strive for more.
Being American is about acceptance. America is, in theory, a refuge for any who need it. It’s helping others, whether they are American or not. It’s about frontierism. Innovation and exploration in all fields from science and technology, to human rights and the arts. It’s about always striving to do better: personally, professionally and nationally. It is not about being the best in the world. It’s about being our best selves. It’s about taking the groundwork laid by those before us and building on top of it. It’s standing on a ladder, reaching for the top, but at the same time helping others climb up. It’s a privilege, and can’t be taken for granted.
Your mom & dad are immensely proud of being American. You will too, because it’s nearly impossible not to. I can’t wait to take you to some of our historic sites, so that you can feel and appreciate our heritage for yourself. Our newest little patriot, full of bold ideas for the future.
See you in October,
Mom
Chez Huffman 