Under my skin

Dear Ava,

This is what Mommy looked like in the final days when you were camping out in my tummy. I was big and round and gained sixty pounds even though you were only six and a half pounds when you were born.

That's no matter though, because we went to Mom & Baby Yoga and went on lots of walks, and I kept telling myself that it took nine months to get this size and it would likely take nine months for the weight to go away. Now, nearly nineteen months after your birth, all but eight pounds are gone. They're a stubborn eight pounds, settled on my abdomen, where weight has never settled before. Oh well, if eight pounds is what I have, eight pounds it is until I do something about it.

When you were growing inside me I used to sing to you. I sang you lots of songs, but the song I sang nearly every day was Frank Sinatra's "Under My Skin." I couldn't find anything more appropriate to sing you than "I've got you, under my skin; I've got you, deep in the heart of me." Although I didn't know for sure you were a girl, I'd still sing the line "Oh little girl, you never can win, because I've got you, under my skin."

Now I sing you this song when I want you to settle down and rest. Sometimes I sing the song just because it's in my head. When you're older and aren't as easily entertained by lights in the ceiling or unopened tea bags, I'll tell you this story, and wonder if everytime you hear that song when you're out and about in the world, you'll think of me.