Dear Baby,
Today I caved. I went and bought new bras. You've managed to enhance my womanly figure by two cup sizes...just as your brother did. I spent two hours trying to figure out what the heck to get, initially because I couldn't find the same type I normally get, and then after settling for something else I saw a tiny stash of the ones I like...which resulted in more trips to the fitting room. All I could think about while looking was how much you're changing my life before you even get here...and if I should buy a bra that is super comfy but ugly, or just regular comfy and cute...bought both of course.
I swear I can already feel you swiftly moving from time to time, mostly as I lay awake in the middle of the night pondering various debacles in my life. It's comforting, it is as though you're letting me know that despite all of the things keeping me awake at night, you're here and nothing else matters.
Your brother is absolutely insisting you're a girl. He is excited to call you DJ, short for Delilah Joy. And if you turn out to be a boy, well then he's naming you Commando...after his favorite way to dress. I promise that if you are a boy I'll convince him of a more socially suitable name. Though Commando is no worse than Blanket Jackson.
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