Week 39:       December 12 - December 18, 1991

   
 

That's about it. For all intents and purposes, we've just about made it to the end. It's fair to say that any day now you should be arriving, though of course you're already here. And there isn't that much for us to do other than wait patiently. Even if we're impatient, it won't make much difference. You can imagine that we're excited, but since there's little for us to do until you actually arrive we're still taking things in stride.

At the beginning of this week your mother reported that you seemed to have the hiccups. You were constantly giving her small jumps. If you'll permit me one last reference to the books, they tell us that hiccups are to be expected - you're already trying out your lungs, although it's not oxygen that you're filling them with - yet. (This may be the last reference to pregnancy books, but believe me, they're already being replaced by child rearing books so you can begin getting used to the idea that we'll be comparing your development to what the books tell us is "normal".)

Throughout these nine months you've given your mother numerous serious jumps. I guess that for that reason it's only fair that this week she did the same to you. During one of her classes she dropped a pile of cymbals on the table right next to you and the crash gave you quite a jump. Even if it wasn't intended, and we really don't take any special pleasure out of making you jump, it was nice to know that you're responding to what's happening around you. I'd probably jump as well if a pile of cymbals dropped right next to me.

It's normal to think that your mother's hormones are making her behave somewhat differently than she has in the past. This week, however, it seemed as though my hormones were working extra hours. As you'll probably have quite a number of opportunities to learn, I'm not the most meticulous person when it comes to cleaning. So it's a fair guess that if I vacuumed our apartment, seeking out dirt wherever it might be hiding, and cleaned all our windows and shades, your imminent arrival, and my hormones, probably had something to do with it.


 







A taste of your own medicine, though admittedly not pre-meditated. Your mother gave you quite a start when she dropped a pile of cymbals right in front of you.