Manatee

To my manatee,

I don’t know you yet. I know that you are swimming around inside of me. Eating what I eat, drinking what I drink and hearing my voice. I don’t know if you are a boy or girl. If you are going to be funny like your Dad. Or idealistic like your grandma. Maybe you’ll be dreamer like your uncle. What I do know is that I love you. From the moment I found out you were in there I can barely think of anything else. I hold my breath each month as the doctor finds your heartbeat. I can’t wait to see your next picture, gray and grainy and you looking like something out of a horror movie. Sometimes I think I feel move around inside of me. Am I really? I don’t know. I have been really gassy lately. But I’d like to think it’s you. I can’t wait to see you the first time and find out who you are, to kiss your little baby cheeks and pinch your little baby toes. I can’t wait to see how your Dad is with you. I’m sure it will be a battle to see who gets to hold you and bathe you. But we’ll fight it out in a nice way.

20 weeks to go. I can hardly wait.