34 weeks tomorrow

These baby feet are starting to drive me absolutely insane. Which feels terrible to say, as I worked so hard to make these baby feet, and to keep these baby feet safe, and the more I feel the baby feet the safer I know they are, and if I suddenly stopped feeling the baby feet I would panic. But even so, last night I actually dreamt about baby feet. In my dream I looked down at my midsection and shined a light on my belly which revealed a spreading bruise somehow underneath my skin, and within the halo of purpling bruise I saw two absolutely distinct baby footprints. I tried to take a picture, but I couldn't hold the camera and the light at the same time. The feet pressed out and I saw their outline, and the bruise rippled, and then the feet disappeared and were replaced with the outline of hands.

It real life it's not quite so uncanny as that. The feet emerge as lumps rather than outlines of feet. But as I sit here in the library trying to get work done a foot lump emerges under my arm, pressing out from under my ribs, like he's eager to step out into the world but doesn't know which way to go.

Tomorrow is 34 weeks. Our next scan and appointment is on Tuesday, and then we will enter the weekly appointments stage.

You can be early if you want, Succotash. I share your eagerness. I have blankets and little footie pajamas and beanies and a changing pad and a diaper bag and a couple of swaddles and I've signed up for diaper delivery and we have a formula machine just in case and I'm ready. I mean, I'm not ready. I'll never be ready, any more than you will be. Being born is going to be appalling for both of us I feel certain, as neither of us will have done it before, and it might be loud and scary and weird, but then your father and I will be there holding you and it will be much like when you were inside, except that you can stretch your baby feet out as far as you want, and use them to take you places other than under my rib and into the inner curve of my elbow. You will be free.