Dear Seuss:  You’re quite the adventurous little beast (please note that she’s prowling the top of the bed, sniffing Penny who likes to snooze under the top quilt in the morning).

Dear Self:  Happy birthday tomorrow!  Pretty crazy that you turned 21 TEN WHOLE YEARS AGO.

Dear Baby:  So many hiccups.  Every single day.

Dear KC:  I’m so excited to go eat some steak with you tomorrow.

Dear Clothes:  Remember when so many of you fit?  Man, those were the days.

Dear Scale:  Um, seriously what is happening.  We probably need to break up until at least 8 weeks post-birth.

Dear Bar Method:  8 months pregnant and still taking full classes!  Thigh sure is a lot harder with a giant, heavy bowling ball belly though.

Dear Haircut:  I can’t wait.  Hopefully the little lady stays put long enough so I can get to my appointment in a few weeks!

Dear Pajamas:  You’re all I want to wear these days.  I have a feeling maternity leave is going to be very sexy.

Dear KC:  Sorry in advance for my pajamas-only clothing policy.

Love, Chelsea

Dear KC:  Remember when you decided to go to Costco yesterday and brought me home the big pack of organic raspberries?  You clearly know the way to my pregnant heart.  But the giant box of Oreos…  I think we’re both in trouble there.

Dear Baby:  What about how you could technically be here one month from today?  That’s really crazy to think about.  (But I feel more ready to meet you every day!)

Dear Round Ligaments:  OMG WHAT IS HAPPENING???  Was it something I said?

Dear Work Friends:  You guys are the very first people to ever throw me a surprise party (and I was definitely surprised).  That surprise baby shower was so thoughtful and sweet!

Dear Pool:  My big pregnant belly has been dreaming about swimming lately.  We should probably have a date soon.

Dear Hands:  Um, we need to get you guys a manicure ASAP.

Dear Birthing Class:  Sooo, you’re happening this weekend…  Things are getting real over here.

Dear The Jinx:  Jesus Christ.  (And really, if that show doesn’t convince you of the idiocy of Texas juries, I don’t know what will.)

Dear Birthday:  You’re a week from tomorrow.  I’m so tired, all I want this year is naps.

Dear Feet:  Sorry.  About everything.

Love, Chelsea

Dear Baby:  Soooo, maybe your daddy and I went to Gap last weekend to buy you a “coming home from the hospital outfit” and ended up buying you a whole teeny-tiny wardrobe because your mama can’t make up her mind about anything these days…  Thank goodness for that employee discount.

Dear Nursery:  You are so close to being finished!  And I can’t even believe how adorable you look.  I think you’re probably my favorite room in the whole house right now.

Dear Belly:  Holy moly you’re big.  How is it that there’s still 8 weeks to go?  Is it possible to get even bigger?

Dear Closet:  Ugh, nothing fits.

Dear Washing Machine:  I realize that I have washed none of the baby stuff yet (I was saving it for the beginning of my maternity leave, which starts a bit before my actual due date), but I’m not really sure how I’m going to wash everything if I can’t reach the bottom of the washer with this giant belly in the way.  I feel like a t-rex with this big belly and short little arms.

Dear Third Trimester:  You’re really tiring.  I could literally sleep like 16+ hours a day at this point.  Apparently the end of pregnancy turns you into a cat.

Dear Waist:  Remember when I had one?  Ah, memories…

Dear Tabbouleh:  You are so delicious!  What a good choice this week.  (And it made me not feel so bad for eating half a pint of Ben and Jerry’s afterward…)

Dear Baby Foot:  Um, just so you know, pushing through my right waist isn’t the preferred exit strategy.

Dear KC:  Can you believe we’re going to be parents after next month?  It’s kind of crazy, considering that when we started dating I couldn’t legally buy booze yet and you thought shopping at Pac Sun was fancy.  Man, so much has changed!  (Except for the fact that I still love you a whoooole lot.)

Love, Chelsea

Dear KC:  That blue ceiling makes me so happy.  I know that laundry/family room space has been such a work in progress for like ever, but I think we’re allllmost done with it!

Dear Mom, Alexis and Grandma:  I can’t thank you guys enough for that wonderful baby shower on Sunday.  You guys definitely know how to throw a classy soiree, and this little lady and I are so lucky to have all three of you in our lives.

Dear Baby:  Um, have you been doing Bar Method in my belly?  Because dang your legs are strong.  Sometimes I swear your little foot is gonna push right through my waist.  Oof.

Dear Energy:  Where’d you go?  No, seriously.

Dear Dinner:  If you could make yourself, that would be so amazing.  For some reason this whole third trimester thing seems to be a lot of, “I don’t know what I want to eat” and “I have zero energy to figure it out.”

Dear Squirrel:  I’m sure it’s very luxurious and comfy up in our attic, but I’m really going to need you to find a new place to live.  Either that or start paying rent.

Dear Taxes:  Um, I hope you will be providing us with a giant refund this year because holy moly this whole having a baby thing isn’t cheap.

Dear Guy scooting past me and my giant belly in line:  I think the words you were looking for were, “Excuse me,” not “Look out.”  (I get that chivalry is pretty much out of the picture at this point, but remember regular manners?  Those were kind of awesome.)

Dear Maternity Leave:  6 weeks!  Omggggg.

Dear Heartburn:  So you’re back, huh?  Please excuse me for not celebrating.

Love, Chelsea

Dear Penny:  I’m not sure why you have such a fascination with our socks, but it’s simultaneously adorable and a little bit gross.  (She steals them after we take them off and uses them as a pillow.)

Dear Baby:  Your room is almost ready!  I can hardly believe it.  Sometimes I go in there and just think about what it will be like when you’re here.  And by the way, your daddy is pretty excited to meet you (he keeps asking, “What do you think she’ll be like??”)

Dear Food:  I can’t seem to get enough of you these days and this belly is really showing it.

Dear $30 Parking Ticket:  After close to 3 months, 2 appeals, and a strongly-worded letter + supporting documents, I’m getting you refunded.  Don’t mess with a pregnant attorney who knows when she’s in the right.

Dear Trader Joes’ This Cranberry Walks Into A Bar:  Um, why are you so randomly delicious right now?  So weird.

Dear Lungs:  Remember when it didn’t feel like I was out of breath all the time?  I miss that.

Dear Baby Gap:  OMG STOP.  I can’t even deal.

Dear BLTA:  There’s kind of nothing more amazing and delicious than you right now.  I think I’m gonna have to recreate that sandwich again tonight for dinner.  Bacon forever.  (But not in the first trimester.  Barf.)

Dear KC:  Thanks for tackling all those projects around the house last weekend.  You’re the best.

Dear Weekend:  I can’t wait to sleep in!  This whole third trimester thing just makes me want to sleep 24/7.  Zzzzzz…

Love, Chelsea