Dear Rob,

Thank you for the surprise manicure and pedicure you took me to get on Monday. I’m sorry I was being bratty and uncooperative when you tried to make me go. That was such a sweet thing for you to do for me, and I was so happy the next morning when I woke up and saw my feet, not yet swollen for the day, looking so pretty and almost like they used to.

I’m sorry I always nag you about cleaning the house.

I’m sorry I always nag you to move heavy things around and hang stuff on the walls.

I’m sorry that I give you the silent treatment and storm around in a foul mood when my nagging doesn’t work.

Thank you for the unexpected flowers from last week. They still look so pretty, and they smell so great, and every time I think about them I can’t help but smile at that sweet surprise. I think you got them for me because we fought that day, but I can barely remember now because those lovely flowers have eclipsed the fight (hmmm…I think there’s a lesson to be learned here.)

I’m sorry that I have cooked you less than 10 real meals in the last 32 weeks. I hope to one day make up for it.

Thank you for finally driving the car. It is such a relief to me to know that I won’t have to drive myself to the hospital when the baby comes. (And, though I hate to say “I told you so,” I knew you’d like it once you got the hang of things.)

I’m sorry that I spend the vast majority of my free time neglecting you for crafting, sewing, or making dumb little things that probably seem really pointless to you.

I’m sorry I keep stealing your clothes. And that I look ridiculous in general when it’s just the two of us at home.

Thank you for being patient and nice when I buy baby stuff, and for pretending to care about how cute it is when I make you look at it.

Thank you for telling me that I look cute pregnant, and that I will be a good mama.

I hope you can be patient with me in these final eight weeks. It’s probably only going to get worse. And also, after that, I really can’t guarantee anything. And I’m sorry to say it, but you’re stuck with me. Forever.

But take comfort in the fact that I love you very much.

Love,

Your Viennie

P.S. You may have to turn a blind eye to all the money that I "might" be planning on spending at Cafe Rio in the next eight weeks. Just trying to help you mentally prepare for that.