Dear Milly,

You’re still not here.  I’m really hoping you come by tomorrow, or at least that you’re on your way by then.  I’ll be honest, part of it is that I don’t want to have missed your great-grandfather’s funeral, but of course I really just want you to get here and hold you in my arms.  I can’t wait for that.

Not a whole lot to write about for today.  I worked, your mom worked.  I had a lot of people ask if anything was happening with you yet.  Your Pap called to see how things were going.  He was hanging out on the porch at Baba and Pap’s (I realize all this Pap stuff might be a little confusing to you- that’s the grandfather name my dad chose for himself), which is where everyone sits and talks and hangs out when we’re in Lexington, and he said everyone was wondering what your status was.

Pap’s (or Grandpap, as we sometimes called him around your cousin, Jackson) viewing was this evening.  My distant cousin, Becky, posted a picture of him from her wedding a few years ago.  It captures his spirit just about perfectly.

The thought occurred to me that every time I call someone right about now, they’re going to wonder if there’s a baby yet.  I feel bad for your mom now- every time she called me from work the past couple days I either asked if her water had broke or if she was having contractions yet.

Your mom is a wonderful scrapbooker and she started on yours today.  She startded with the night we took the pregnancy test and went up to your first concert- The Old 97’s.

Speaking of your mom, her feet are pretty swollen, particularly her left one.  She took off her rings, too.  After we watched a little TV she went and took a bath.  She’s not big on baths, but they’ve been soothing for her lately and we’re planning on trying to get a delivery room with a bath.

Anyway, we’re just waiting on your arrival.  Get here soon, ‘kay?

Lovingly and expectantly,

Dad