Thursday, October 18, 2007

Updating you on your life in utero

Dear little one,

Sorry no news from me and your dad for the last several days. It’s been a really exciting time for our family. You’ve been kicking up a storm, so I kind of wonder if you might already have known what an exciting time it was.

This past weekend, your dad and I went to Macon, GA to see your grandparents and your aunt, Katie. We always sort of assumed that you’d grow up knowing Macon as a home away from home, but now we know that isn’t true. Since I was 12 years old, my parents have lived in Macon. Consequently, I lived there for a number of years, and as an objective observer, I don’t think you’re missing much by missing Macon. You’re going to miss out on some pretty wonderful people though. Since I was about 15, your grandfather has been the rector of St. Francis, a really wonderful congregation. But Friday, your grandfather was elected to be the bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Nevada. That means you aren’t going to know your grandfather to have a congregation and to serve them as their priest – you will know him to have a different professional role. I don't really know what that will mean for you, but it strongly influences where your dad and I are likely to choose to live someday, where you're likely to grow up, and much more. When I was a kid, I could never have imagined how much my father's decision to become a priest would influence my life - but I am essentially southern because he did. It's more important to me and your dad to be near family than it was to my parents, so who knows how this will impact all of us now? It helps that I really like the idea of living out West again (and your dad is intrigued by the idea as well), so it's more likely that we'll wander that way.

Under the heading of “major events in your life,” you got to hear your grandma, grandpa, and aunt’s voices for the first time since (according to the books) you’ve been able to hear in there. Your aunt and grandma got to feel you kick, too. I discovered that I could get you to kick by singing a very low pitch – it worked long enough to let your grandma feel you kick (hard! So cool!), but after that you got bored. I’ve experimented with it several times since then, but it seems that you’ve lost interest. I really enjoyed the game of trying to figure out what I could do to get you to respond – our first primitive attempt at communication. Fun! If you have any inkling in there what I’m writing/saying/thinking out here, I hope you’ll think that was fun and help me figure out how to play some more!

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