Expecting You, Nora

2 Mar

Dear Nora,

That’s your name, at least, what we think is going to be your name. We found out you were a girl an at elective ultrasound place. Surprisingly, it wasn’t cheesy, and I had managed to get your dad onboard. (You’ll learn soon that he isn’t big on this kind of sentimental stuff…) Your Grandma Patty was there, as well as Becky. Tears were shed by them when you popped up on the screen, resting peacefully. They already love you.

Before we knew which parts you had, I took a poll. Everyone, except for your dad and Grandpa Al, thought you were going to be a boy. I think it’s because the first born cousins that you do have (M & A) are both girls. With only one boy cousin, I’m sure everyone was thinking hot wheels and mud pies.

… not saying that you couldn’t be into that. I’m a fan of hot wheels myself. And while I’m not a fan of mud or dirt, I’ll still let you get by with jumping in puddles and playing in sandboxes…

But there you were, lady bits and all. Your dad was overjoyed. I was totally shocked. Grandma P and Becky were just amazed that you were a real, living creature residing in that tiny bump of mine. We spent the drive home and the next few days talking of nothing else except what we were going to name you.

At first, you were going to be a Saoirse. I still love how it is pronounced (seer-sha) and its Irish meaning of “liberty.” But do you really want to go through your life spelling that out for anyone that asks? Hell, I’m not even sure how I’d teach you to spell that name when the time came.

We also had Caroline, but as someone named after a song, I certainly couldn’t let you be subjected the undoubtedly drunk boys at bars who will croon “Sweet Caroline” to you in hopes of getting your attention. Oh Lord no. If I am going to name you after a song, it’s going to be romantic and beautiful, something some guy with a guitar in a dorm room will play for you when you need cheering up…

Charlotte was on that list as well. But your dad refused to let me call you Lottie so I protested. What can I say? I like old lady names that ring of charm and hard work.

So, there we were, with no name to call you. I mean, I am sure there are a million mothers who have nothing to call their children until they arrive. Look at your cousin Amelia who we weren’t sure was going to be a boy or a girl until she entered this world! But I wanted to call you something. I wanted you to be real, to be living, to have a personality. A name was the best way to get you one.

Dad and I each made a list of 30 of our top names. We oddly had a ton of similar or the same names. Then we circled the names on the other person’s lists that we liked and crossed off those we refused. (Believe me, I was crossing like mad. Your dad has horrible naming tastes.) We then cut it down to our top 10, top 5, and top 3. We ranked the top three, and both of us picked Nora.

So Nora Frances you will be. It’s stuck for several months now, so I am pretty sure we’re keeping it. Plus, no one has told us that your name sounded like a dog’s or asked us how to spell it… so there’s that. Wins all around!

And with about three months to go, I am dying to meet you Nora. I am dying to hold your hand and sing you songs. I mean, I do that now. I cradle you in my arms in the shower and sing you songs from Disney movies until I can’t think of the lyrics. I sometimes yell at you when you misbehave, like when you cut off my circulation and sent me to the hospital for three days (thanks for the vacation…).

But every morning, I greet you as I wake up. When I go to grab my lunch, I ask you what you want to eat. At night, I talk to you in my head, because, for some reason, I feel like you can hear me even when I don’t say the words out loud. You’re probably hearing me say all of this in my head at this very moment if that’s true…

Dad talks to you too. He tries to remember to say goodnight and goodbye to you daily, but he sometimes forgets. But when you get here, you will be his little diamond. You’re going to fill that void in his heart I know that he is missing. You’re that little piece of him that is going to complete his life. He cannot wait to meet you, to hear your voice, to teach you all of the cool things like politics and music trivia. I think he even has a concert schedule planned out for you.

We’re all expecting you, Nora. We’re all praying you will arrive safe and happy. And while it is still about 17 weeks away, we are counting down the days patiently.

All our love,

Mom

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