Letters to bump: 8 weeks to go

Letters to bump: 8 weeks to go

Dear Squeaky B,

It was a big week this week. Not for you, sorry, but for someone very close to you.

Weeks: 32 weeks

Stats: You’re measuring at 16.7 inches and weighing in at 1.7 kilograms

Vegetable size: Bok Choy

To be honest, Squeaky, there isn’t too much news for you this week. But, there is one event that I’ve been preparing for and building up to for months.

Highlight of the Week

It was your daddy’s birthday at the end of the month!

Yes, those deep and soothing tones that you’ll hear encouraging you to kick me, singing randomly or shouting at other drivers now belongs to a 30 year old daddy. While daddy wasn’t too bothered about reaching the big three oh, I wasn’t going to let the occasion pass by without celebration. And an over the top one at that.

His birthday may have been on a Monday, but the celebrations started on Saturday. With a meal out with the attendees consisting of just me, daddy and your big brother. We aimed to be there for 12 – 12:10pm, which meant we didn’t arrive ’til 12:30. I blame the Sat Nav, Squeaky.

Despite your big brother almost giving the game away on two (yes, two) occasions, we managed to arrive at the restaurant with the surprise completely intact. You see, what your daddy didn’t know was that I had gathered all his family together secretly to help celebrate, complete with giant helium balloons.

His face was quite the picture when everyone yelled “surprise!” as we walked in – it made all the secret WhatsApp messages between your grandma, Auntie Sara and Auntie Victoria worth it.

But, your daddy wasn’t the only one in for a surprise. Your grandma and grandad were also there, and hidden behind the giant cupcake balloon was your Auntie Ash and Auntie Jess, who had flown in from Ireland to surprise both of us. Needless to say, there were a few tears. Yes, from me.

Here’s a few snaps from the day to look back on…

I love that last one of me and your daddy. Yes, I made him wear an enormous ’30’ badge.

Of course, it didn’t stop there. On Sunday it was just me and daddy, and I had decided to treat him to ‘Dino Golf’ at the Trafford Centre. Unfortunately, the pouring rain scuppered that and we were forced to change our plans to the indoor adventure golf course. Once we had battled our way through the traffic, and your daddy had gone slightly mad on treating himself (you know, birthday, and all that) we finally had a round of golf.

I lost, again. One day I’ll beat him.

Then it was back home – sans traffic and rain now, of course – for a takeaway pizza and Netflix. Oh you’ll learn all about Netflix when you’re finally here.

The celebrations continued on Monday when your daddy was spoiled rotten by me, his family and his co-workers. No doubt you’ll be hearing all about their present some time in the future. Let’s just say your daddy gets to pretend he’s James Bond for a weekend. I’ll say no more.

And that was it. Your daddy is now officially 30. There are no more celebrations to be had.

Or are there…?

Love, mummy and daddy xx

13 thoughts on “Letters to bump: 8 weeks to go”

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