My belly is getting bigger with every passing day, and as I put my hands on it, I’m both excited and terrified to meet you. Excited for seeing your sweet little face beyond my 3D ultrasound. Excited for kisses on your sweet little face and holding you in my arms. Excited for all the amazing things you will do soon after you’re born.
Each day will pass faster and faster and I know that when I blink, you’ll be grown. There’s so much that we’ll share together. The joys, the challenges. All of it. The terrifying moments too. Those moments when your little head radiates with heat and you can’t sleep, and neither will I. Those moments when you trip and fall on the sidewalk while running along, where I will be unable to breathe until I realize you are going to be okay. Those moments when I turn around in the supermarket and think you’re gone and am relieved to find you right behind me.
For all of these moments, good and bad, I will be here for you. I’ve loved you since the moment I found out you existed inside of me. And now I’m counting down more moments until I meet you face-to-face.
My life will soon change completely with your birth. And as I prepare for your arrival, I can’t help but wonder if I’m enough for you. I have all this love to give you, but I fear I won’t measure up. And while I know you’ll need me more during the first few months of your life than you ever will, I hope that you’ll always need me too.
In my head, all the things I long to tell you are racing around. I don’t want to ever forget to tell you these things. Like that you are special and loved. That you don’t have to make people like you. That it doesn’t matter if you fit in. That trying your best is what counts and that sometimes even your best won’t guarantee you that good grade or that spot on the team and it’s completely fine. That life is beautiful and wonderful, even if the world can be a hateful place at times. That it’s often unfair, but that it’s not unfair all the time.
There’s so much I have to say to you, but I’ll patiently wait here until you are ready to come out. Until then, I’ll be folding your little clothes, rearranging your room for the 100th time and pacing back and forth in hopes that you’ll feel right at home here as well as in my arms.