Today is Mother's Day. Last Wednesday, I turned twenty-five. A couple of days before that, this guy (you'll have no idea who he is, but we'll tell you about him later) named Osama bin Laden got killed and the whole world was in an uproar about that. Yeah, it's been a crazy few weeks.
I haven't written to you much. I haven't even taken a picture of my belly since you were really, really little. To be honest, I've been pretty exhausted. As my love for you grows, several bits and pieces of reality keep hitting me. The main one is how, once you're finally here (as in, out of my belly, because of course, you're here) that "maternity leave" thing won't last for very long ... I won't get to stay home with you. That's really, really bothering me.
I'm trying not to let it, though. So I'm going to stop talking about it now. It's, how they say, a bridge we'll cross when we get there.
Anyway, I just wanted to give you a quick hello. You squirm a lot now, at least every few days anyway. You feel like a little goldfish, and it's kinda neat, but weird at the same time. It's like, I want you to squirm so I know you're okay, but at the same time I wish it didn't tickle the way it does!
I'm sure you already know this but your name is Evelynn and your dad and I call you Evy. If by some crazy turn of events you end up being a boy, your name is Elliott. And I'll probably call you Ellie, even when you're a grown man with a beard like your dad's.
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