I know.  ::sigh::  The letters have become few & far between, but it’s not that Momma does not care — it’s that she is so forgetful.  In fact, my little avocado, you will be able to hear Momma’s stuttering attempts to recall vitally important details this week since your little ears are in working order!

It is so incredible to me that you will hear me talk & sing for the next 24 weeks of this pregnancy.  That when I belt out Britney Spears at the top of my lungs, you will be covering your wee ears in utero & thinking, “Thank God Momma has a day job!”  How quickly will you recognize my voice?  Will you know it immediately out of the womb?  Will you know my smell, or my touch?  I think about how I can pick your Gram out from a crowd of 1000 — how she smells of powdered make-up, faint traces Elizabeth Taylor’s Passion perfume, & laundry detergent — & I wonder what I will smell like to you.  Apples, soap, & dusting polish, perhaps?  I think of how my mother can shake her keys in a busy store, & I can still pick them out above the din.  Maybe you will know my footsteps, my laugh, or the pop of my knuckles.   & I think of how at 25 years old, nothing brings more comfort than my mother pulling me into her arms & holding me tight, rocking me back & forth.  Will we be the same, 25 years from now?  Will you melt into me, smelling the apples & dusting polish, knowing that you are home in my arms, no matter what?

HJ, sometimes it feels that our journey is truly just beginning as I wait to feel you kick for the first time.  I wait for you to hear me, & me to feel you, & know that for the rest of our lives, we’ll be a part of each other.

I love you.

Love,

Momma