Dear Little One,

You, my dear, are a party animal. Once I’ve settled down for the day, you start to play and until I wake up the next morning, it seems, you have a ball. I like that about you. I love this part of pregnancy—the part when I can feel you, other people can sometimes see you, and the reality of you in my arms is becoming more and more exciting every day.

We think we have a name picked out for you, but I’ve got to tell you, it comes from a weird place. A few weeks ago, Jacob started saying “hungry,” but when he said it, it sounded like the French pronunciation of Henry: Henri. I told your daddy that, and we pretty quickly decided that Henry could be a very good name for you. It’s strong but classic, and sounds good with our last name.

Although it’s not the be-all end-all of naming, I looked up the meaning of Henry. Unfortunately, it means “home ruler.” This terrifies your daddy and me. Famous Henrys are mostly kings and writers, so that part’s okay, I guess. The thing is, we just love the sound of it. I never really considered Henry as a name for a son, but now that I’m starting to get to know you, I think it fits. As I think more about the not-so-thrilling meaning of the name, the lack of substance is kind of wonderful. The name will come to fit whoever you are.

We’ve gotten a pretty good response from friends and family thus far, which is nice. Your grandparents on both sides are concerned that Henry will turn into Hank. Your daddy and I didn’t know that those names were connected, and we’re hoping no one else in our generation—or yours—knows that. Once it’s written here, I’ll try not to mention it again. Two years in, and Jacob is not yet Jake (except for in one uncle’s case), which are good odds.

Another beautiful thing about this name is that Jacob can say it—and he does say it differently than “hungry,” thank goodness. Since I’ve been feeling you move, I’ve begun to feel more complete in a way, like you are someone that I really need in my life to be whole. It’s not about me, I know, but I do think about holding you every single day. I can’t wait to meet you and have Jacob start to get to know you, too. I think you were kicking him tonight while I put him down to bed, and it seemed to relax him.

Two boys. I can’t wait to see you interact with one another. Three boys, really, but Ethan is in a different place. He’s watching out for us, I know. I’ve told you this before (five letters before you’re even born—wow!), but you’re very lucky to have him. And we, my dear Henry, are very lucky to have you.

Kick, kick, kick!

Love you,
Mom