Breathe

Dear Frijole,

33 1/2 weeks.  Almost 8 1/2 months.

It is early in the morning and I am up for the third time tonight.  Aside from sleeplessness due to being uncomfortable and achey, you are pressed up against both my stomach and diaphragm which makes for lots of indigestion and shortness of breath.  When I sit up in bed for the millionth time, your sleepy daddy murmurs, "You ok?" and falls back asleep immediately.  I let him sleep because he has to go to work and I get up again restlessly.

We just moved in with your aunty Natasha and cousin Lucas for the next 6 months.  This move was meant to help us all save some money and so far is working very well.  I felt very fortunate that I was able to hire ladies to help pack up our old apartment as well as movers and cleaners to make my labor during the move much, much easier.  Plus your father worked very hard.

One of the women who came to clean our old apartment, Marada, was also in her eighth month of pregnancy.  At first we congratulated each other and happily admired that we were both about to have little girls.  But after she got to work, I watched her scrubbing my bathroom floor on her hands and knees amidst strong cleanser fumes.  I felt guilty thast she was working to make things easier for me when she also needed to be getting off of her feet and resting, plus I couldn't believe she was able to get down on the floor when I can barely bend over. 

"How are you able to do this?"  I asked her.

With her scrub brush in hand, she sat back on her heels, blew the hair out of her eyes, and shrugged, "I have to."  I felt so unhappy and over-privileged and...white.  When she asked shyly if she could drink from a four year old bottle of water I was putting in the recycling bin, I felt worse.

I tipped Marada and her assistant well but I can't stop thinking about her and wishing I could help more.  We don't have much money, but I am so grateful for what we do have.

At any rate, the best news is that the move is over and all I have to do now is get ready for you.  Your grandma is poised to jump on an airplane to San Francisco as soon as I go into labor.  I think she is as impatient for you to be born as I am.  You know, you bring a lot of smiles to her face and mine and you're not even here yet.  Already people are lining up to hug and kiss you.  My sweet baby girl.

Love,

Mama