First, let me start by saying, I'm sorry you don't have a name yet. It's not that we don't care - quite the opposite. For some reason we are obsessing over weird details we never even considered when choosing your sister's name. It's hard to name a boy! Something strong & masculine, but not doesn't sounds like a pit bull or super hero. Something that goes with "London Claire" but nothing that rhymes, starts with L, or has geographic origin. What will your nickname be? Should we use a family name? Will people mistake it for something else? Will there be 4 others in your kindergarten class? It's a lot of pressure! But I promise, the names we've narrowed it down to are all pretty awesome and I know, soon, it'll just hit us which one is perfect for you. Maybe after you're already here, but I'm (finally) ok with that.
Anyway, the point of this was that we are not ready for you to come.
Beyond just not having your name picked out, your nursery is not even close to finished. Your closet is empty, the crib isn't set up, sheets haven't been washed. I don't have your coming home outfit washed. I have no idea if we own any socks for you. All of this stresses me out quite a bit. You see, your mama is what some people would call a bit of a control freak. Type A. Whatever. So to have all these things left undone is unnerving to me, and causes me to hope you stay inside for at least another month.
But yet, for some strange reason (maybe because I hate being pregnant and I'm relatively sure if you don't come out soon you might actually break my ribs), I'm so ready for you to be here. I'm over analyzing every possible pre-labor symptom. I packed my hospital bags (sort-of) tonight. I RSVP to things in the coming weeks with the preface that we'll attend if you haven't made your arrival yet. So I guess as much as I am not ready for you, I am as ready as I could possibly be to meet you, and hold you in my arms, and stroke those sweet tiny feet that have been threatening to crack my rib cage for so many weeks now. From as much as I can tell, things are pretty cramped in there so I think you're ready to come out, too.
And since I'm "full term" and you've been measuring plenty big enough, I'll just go ahead and give you permission to come any time you're ready. Which, we all know, by me saying that means you'll be two weeks late. But hey, maybe then you'll have some socks?
Can't wait to see your sweet face, and watch your daddy meet his son for the first time. We love you so much already.