Dear Little Tiny Baby,
You aren’t late- but you certainly are taking your time to make your way into this world.
I’m giant and swollen and our family life sort of feels on hold, since you seem to start and stop your arrival into this world often.
I do my very best not to wish away days, be them good or bad, but it’s hard not to wish for your own child because I spend much of my day imagining you and now I’m anxious to meet you. And i say this knowing once I know you, I’ll never be able to live a single second of my life without you.
I want to tell you what I know of you.
I know that you are patient and calculated. I know that you are playful and observant. I know that you adore your siblings- as you move and jump any time you hear their voices. I know that you have a strong work ethic and a creative force that moves you forward. How do I know these things? Sharing my body with you, my third, I can feel your presence in my heart and mind. Since day one you have been working with me- helping me to build a successful business and be an attentive mom with more patience than I normally would have with your siblings and Dad. I can feel you pushing me forward, asking me to examine and reexamine my edits and shots and the way I view the world. With you I’ve noticed small things and discovered tiny places. With you I’ve adopted an attitude of allowing others to simply be who they are and allowing myself to realize not everyone’s view is the same as mine. I’ve dreamed a bit bigger, and pushed myself a little further, and there is a small part of me that would like to keep a little of you with me forever so I always have the courage and energy I feel from you.
And there is some guilt in this space too. I remember when I got pregnant with you I thought I’d blog your name every day. But life got busy and my thoughts stayed in my head mostly- and time got shorter and now nearly 10 months have past and I’m looking back thinking, did I tell this little one everything I wanted to tell this little one? Did I make this little one feel as special as the others? Did I document all that I could have? Did I share my inner thoughts with this one? I did… I think. I picked a lull-a-bye for you months ago and memorized every word. I plan on singing it to you when we meet. I have, for the record, spoken to your spirit every day of this journey and completed all the promises I wanted to while my body was creating yours and our spirits were sharing this space. I know how great you are, I can feel you in my heart.
But then, there is the physical part of all of this. Tied to the emotional surely, but it’s hard. Hard to move around. Hard to stay in a place of transition. The eagerness I feel is haunting, and everyday I’m more hopeful than the last that I will somehow meet you in person. The anticipation of a spirit so big and great, the journey to get you from underneath my heart to on top of my heart, is difficult to live with day in and day out. How can I ever explain to you that even though you are my third, you are just as important as the others.
I hope you’ll consider transitioning to this place with the rest of us. Whatever day you choose will forever be the best day of my life. And in case it’s not clear, I can’t wait to tell you about the impact you’ve already had on me and this family.
I know the next part is scary. But I will tell you, what I often have to tell myself. We’re gonna do it scared. We’re gonna figure it out as we go. We’re gonna let the tough stuff be tough and the easy stuff be easy. And when it’s all said in done we’re gonna take all the good we can find from it, but we’re gonna have it to do it scared to start. And that’s okay. Anything I ever did that was worth a thing on this Earth I did scared. I did it any way.
I love you already. Mama