A Peter Pan Nursery

For the past two months, we’ve been hard at work on our little Nemo’s nursery. I’ve known for years that I wanted our first baby’s nursery to have a Peter Pan theme. It is one of my favorite Disney films and, I think, especially suited to a child’s imagination. Brandon came up with some preliminary designs, and we got to work. All of the paintings in the room are on canvas– that way, if we have a second baby in this house, the Peter Pan things will go with Nemo to a larger bedroom, and the nursery can be redesigned for the new little bit.

Baby Letter #7– September

This is the second to last letter in my series. I can’t dwell on that too much. We are counting days instead of weeks.

Baby Letter —September

Hello Nemo,

We are getting so close my little bit. A few weeks ago, the idea of your arrival switched from something sweet and abstract to something imminent and very, very real. Your dad and I are a little terrified, frankly. We’ve never faced anything as important as taking care of you and making sure that we do it well.

You are almost 34 weeks in uterus age. You weigh about 5 pounds, and the average baby would be around 18 inches tall (we imagine that you’re a bit taller). Honestly, you’re mostly finished growing. You will continue to add a little more fat in the coming weeks (this is very important, as it will allow you to regulate your body temperature after you’re born), and your organs will keep perfecting their functions.

Baby Letter #6– August

This is the sixth letter in the series I am writing to our baby. If you’re looking for something warm and fuzzy, read one of the older letters. Honesty follows.

 

Baby Letter— August

Hello Nemo,

You and I are in our third trimester now, which means we are approaching the end of our first adventure together. I could not be happier. You see, I like you, but I don’t like being pregnant.

People make it seem lovely and dreamlike, but it isn’t. Being pregnant is extremely uncomfortable — at least it is when the mom is slightly smaller than average and the baby is way beyond average. Dad made you too tall, and you don’t fit in my abdomen anymore.