Monday, June 24, 2013

forty weeks and five days

on the night before you were born i decided it was your dad's white undershirts and nothing else from then on out.






























on the night before you were born the weather was perfect.  and i mean absolutely perfect.  the type of perfect that reminds you why we stick out those cold new england winters.  we took a family boat ride and cruised around the harbor.  per usual, we talked about you the whole time.  we wondered if the ride would help motivate you to make your arrival.  we had given all the old wives tales a whirl by this point.  meeting you had never been closer, but never felt further away.  each passing day felt longer then all nine months combined.  i was convinced i would be pregnant forever.

on the night before you were born i got the last solid nights sleep of my life (i'm assuming ;) ) before we began our greatest adventure....

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