I had a dream on Saturday night, about your delivery. It was a cesarean section and your papa was there. The doctor asked him to cut the cord and he poked you in the belly with the scissors…ha. But you were just fine. Then I was up and moving, washing my hands like three seconds after delivery…ha. Your papa went to see about the birth certificate and he named you Sebastian instead of our agreed upon name, Austin.
I have felt you move more often now so perhaps that is the reason for all the dreams, weird as they are. I can’t even begin to imagine your personality. So far, you seem laid back. You get excited only when I have something with caffeine in it. That’s the Kenyan in you…for I am sure the Ethiopian in you would not even yawn if I drank three espresso in 10 minutes. Buna fever, like your papa.
I cannot wait to meet you.