One photo, 34 weeks in, taken last weekend in Venice.
I have no week-by-week profile mugshots, no ultrasounds posted anywhere (in fact I still have to run through the list “Radar? No. Doppler? No. Sonar? What ARE those things called?” I end up calling them “zap and scans” which is even less scientific.) It just seems like a more private process, this making a human, than the prevailing internet consensus tends to make it.
Despite that, it seemed like having one to look back on wouldn’t be the end of the world.
To show her she lived in Italy, close enough to Venice to hop over for lunch, and that she started her life in a beautiful, inspiring place.
Begin as you intend to go on.
She’s also going to begin with her special lamby friend and outfit choices in her suitcase — and come home in the same pink frills that I did, 34 YEARS ago.
34 weeks, 34 years.
One photo, all in the timing…