Dear Future Baby
Hi, baby.
My goodness, it’s been a long time since I wrote here. Actually, it’s been a long time since I wrote anything at all. In the months since I was last in this space, our would has flipped upside down—almost all for the better.
I’ve been re-reading some of these posts, and they all end the same: with a desperate yearn for you to come. Now, nine months later, the sentiment is still the same.
The difference, though, is you are no longer a hope or a wish or possible dream that may not come true. Rather, I can feel you now moving in my belly, kicking my right side and dancing about. You are now real.
Twenty-two days after I posted my last entry, I finally received the call that I had been longing for. I was pregnant, with you. This came just a few weeks after your dad had received a job offer that would move us to a different part of the country and that would essentially restart our lives. So much of what I had written to you in the past was about failure and defeat, but in the last nine months, our entire lives have bloomed. We found ourselves with new jobs, in a new city, in a new home, with everything that we have wanted for the past few years. And of those things, the greatest being you.
Some day I will tell you about our last round of IUI and how you dad was close to not making it. Then, when he did, right after the procedure, as the nurse was walking out of the room, we received news that our lives would be changing. I will tell you about the day we found out that I was pregnant and how I took a home pregnancy test just so I could finally see a positive. For now, know that, that even though the road to get to you was long and bumpy, my pregnancy has been very easy. Whenever we have heard your heartbeat, you are happy. When we had our 20-week ultrasound, we only got fuzzy images because you were moving so much. You even did a toe touch for us.
You are now officially past due, by two days. You seem content in there, and while I want you to be happy, I also would like you to come. And, yet, I am nervous not to be pregnant anymore. This is the closest you and I will ever be, and even though I can’t wait to hold you, I will miss feeling you tumble and wiggle inside me.
I worry about what kind of mother will I be. I worry that we’ll both disappoint each other at times. I worry that you’ll need more from me than I can give. And, yet, I can’t wait to rock you to sleep, put you into a kiddie pool in our backyard, and take you on adventures.
As I write this, I am sitting in your room, the room we have built specifically for you. You have your own bed, closet full of adorable clothes, shelves of books gifted to you by our friends, and baskets full of toys. We’ll be spending many nights and days here, you and I. This room is my favorite in the house because putting it together made me feel close to you.
In just a matter of days (hopefully soon rather than later), you will no longer be my future baby but just my baby. And, as I’ve said all along, I am ready for you to be here. I am ready to give you all the love I have. I am ready for you to be mine.
Love,
Mom
