Dear Baby,

You are really rocking my world, little one. Number Three. You are only 9 weeks in utero and I am certain you are going to do amazing, hilarious and adventurous things. And I am certain that you will know you are the third and will sleep, sleep, sleep. And will be low-key and charming and silly. Let's make that a reality, shall we? Shake on it, little arm bud baby? Great. There are a few things you need to know, Number Three.

This nausea that I have not had ever so badly with the other two is outrageous. I am sure it only means good things. But right now, afternoon to evening nausea is yucky. I gag my way through cooking dinner and then all I want to eat is the following: pizza, breadsticks, spaghetti, ramen noodles, thai noodles, sushi. And as a daily staple: Raisin Nut Bran. Your father loves that part. But why, oh why, do veggies taste like soap after 4?

As well, at 9.5 weeks along, I appear as if I am 4 months pregnant. Guess my body is ready for another, eh? Even after a complete 90 days of P90X next to your father every have defied my abs and are here. Way to stand out! I love it.

Something I keep reminding myself about you is that you are worth it. (Yes, like a Maybelline commercial)

You are worth a tennis season being compromised this next Summer.

You are worth the weight gain, the horrible flatulence, and the zombie like exhaustion by 8pm.

You are worth the hormonal shift and the weepy days (why am I crying? I don't know....)

You are worth the sleepless nights to come in April, the first 12 weeks of feeding every 3 hours, the crying without any words to tell me the problem, the first 5 months until you sleep through the night.

You are worth more diapers.

You are worth a Summer at the pool that seems really impossible, though your brother and sister will want to go so bad. We will make it work.

Because the above is short term. And I am looking at the long term view.

The down the line view of crazy Christmas mornings and ridiculous sibling jokes and family vacations with loud singing and laughter and late night family popcorn and movie nights. The down the line view that my house will not always have brightly colored plastic items strewn about my well placed adult decor. That baby swings last in my yard for a blink of an eye, that Olive is already 2!, that your father and I are mid-thirties, that what seems slow is actually fast, fast, fast.

The long term view that is my new mantra from a friend: "I'll sleep plenty when I am dead."

The view that I sometimes feared we would have none - and now we have plenty. That children are gifts to be protected and cherished and encouraged and stood up for in a society that says it's all about you and your comfort.

That you are coming, ready or not, and we are making room to welcome you in our Main St. home.

So may you, dear one, be fully healthy and fully formed. May you come right on time, and cook longer than your brother did. ;) May you be a super fun, interesting, faith-filled girl or boy who has so much love to give that you cannot contain it. May you have a smile that melts hearts and a joy that helps save them.

And may you help me keep perspective and not worry that pasta and salty things for a pregnancy will work itself out as you draw the nutrients you need from a Styrofoam noodle meal.