A 7th letter to my unborn daughter

Dear Babygirl,

We need to talk.

You know your Mama, I’m not much of a girly girl. Don’t get me wrong, I have grown into a few girly tendencies over the years – pedicures, eyebrow waxes, pickiness about my brand of make-up – but overall I’m a pretty straightforward, unfussy, no-drama kind of gal. Someone who grew up more interested in Legos than Barbies.

I don’t mind shopping for clothes, but it’s never been a love of mine. Never a “thing” like some women. If I need something, I go out and get it. Mostly, my clothes purchases center around high-quality basics like good jeans and neutral heels and classic tees. Dress ’em up with a couple girlier touches – like a scarf or a great bag – and I am on my way.

That type of style doesn’t make shopping very difficult. Or time-consuming.

So, now, 17 days before your due date, I need you to explain something to me:

I cannot stop shopping for clothes. For YOUR clothes.
I cannot stop opening and closing your dresser drawers, picking up and putting down your pairs of little leggings and your collection of newborn-sized onesies.
I cannot stop wondering if you could use another little hoodie for fall, you have a pink one and a green one already but don’t you need a blue one too and ohh look at that white ruffly one!

Yesterday, I zoned out while standing and staring at the clothes hanging in your closet. Who knows how long I was in there!

When I came to, I didn’t know what month it was.

This clothes thing is becoming a problem, Babygirl. What’s going on?

Today is my birthday. I am thirty-one years young and thirty-seven and a half weeks pregnant. It’s a fun combination.

Your Daddy made me one of my favorite breakfasts this morning of scrambled eggs mixed up with bacon, and I topped it off with a couple cups of half-caf coffee.

Then he left for work, I opened my laptop, Carter’s.com was up in the browser, and POOF that’s the last thing I remember.

Forty-two minutes later I emerged from the computer screen, only to find my wallet laying open next to me and cold coffee in my mug.

Huh? What happened?
Where am I?
Is this Iowa?

It’s occurring to me as I write this, Babygirl, that this might be the first of many ways in which you will change me forever. One of the many, many, many, many, many ways.

It’s a rather silly change, I admit, this sudden interest in gingham dresses and ruffly leggings, but it’s a change nonetheless and something you are helping me develop into.

You’re already making me a better person, girlfriend.

You’re already helping me grow.

You’re already turning me into someone way better than I used to be – someone more rounded and more fun and more in touch with my inner self.

And I love you for it.

Now if you’ll excuse me, Babies ‘R Us just sent me an email that requires my immediate attention. Something about an Online Doorbuster sale…

Love,
Mama

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For more in the Dear Babygirl series: Letters to my Unborn Daughter

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Tagged as: LilSorensen, letter, musings