Dear baby,

Hi, honey.  It's your mom.  It's time for you to make your entrance.  NOW.  (Baby:  Note the urgency.)  A friend wrote me yesterday something very true.  She said, "nine months is Heavenly Father's very wise plan.  He gets us so fat and ready to be done with pregnancy that by the end, we don't care WHAT it takes to get that baby out"  ...I mean, come on, labor is no cake party...and giving birth to a big baby, I'm sure, is really not a cake party.  And if anyone has ever shared the nitty-gritty of labor with you, you know what I'm talking about.  Baby, don't make me resort to doing things like drinking castor oil and other nasty things.  Please, I'm pleading.

Here's the deal.  You're a big baby, which is not your fault...but still, it doesn't negate this very blatant fact.  Big baby equals huge mamma.  Huge mamma equals a serious duck waddle.  Huge mamma equals no more clothes to wear.  I've officially outgrown all my Sunday attire.  I don't want to have to go buy a tent dress for ONE more Sunday.  In fact, all I really want to wear is a huge "moo-moo" posing no restrictions to my body movement - I have never wanted to buy a moo-moo, but I'm on my way to the store to buy something ASAP.  I've outgrown all my pants - minus two pairs, which are starting to feel very snug.  When your mother's full-panel pants are feeling tight and her biggest goal is to get to the store and buy a huge tent to wear, that means it's really time for you to come.  

Not to mention that your head is now sitting right on my bladder, which consequently lands your mother in the bathroom nearly every 15 minutes.  The doctors keep saying "drink lots of water."  But I don't want to because then I can't even leave my house without thinking where I am going to go the bathroom next.  Do you understand?  Your amniotic fluid cannot be replenished at the rate you are wanting it to.  I know you are as happy as a lark in there, just hanging out, sucking all you can from that umbilical chord, kicking your mom in the ribs and your most recent pastime of hitting my sciatic nerve that radiates in my back and more unsightly, my groin.  I'm sure you think it's hilarious that while I am walking in public, I have to grab my groin due to sharp pains shooting down the front of my leg from my groin.  You're making your mommy look like a crazy woman, baby.  That's just about all I can take. 

I promise that if you come, you'll love it out here!  I have a beautiful little crib for you, I've got lots of cute clothes to dress you in, I'm ready to change your diapers and feed you whenever you want to be fed...and you have very anxious parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins ready and excited to attend to every one of your needs.  Now what sounds so bad about that??  

I love you baby, but I just might go crazy if you don't come very soon.  This level of discomfort is just too much for your dear mommy.  I don't want to be told that I look as big as a house/car/horse/cow/giant (fill in with any noun that is described as big) anymore.  I'm telling you this because I love you.  And I just really want to meet you.  Okay, baby? 

Love your pleading mother,

Lili