It is strange to me, to think of you. Little you, maybe only a handful of cells so far. Maybe more. Maybe nothing at all yet. I struggle with what you mean to me, who has never fallen for the rhetoric of "life begins at the moment of conception." I cannot think of you as anything but a real person, already fiercely loved. But then again, you have been real to me for years. I have dreamed of you since long before I even met your Daddy. It is amazing to me that you have been a part of me since I began, tucked away deep inside waiting for the right moment to start your long journey. I want you to know how I waited for you, how I prayed that you would come to me when the time was right, when I could give you the life that you deserved. It is strange to be ready for you, after so many years of feeling panicked and afraid of your arrival.
I wonder how it feels to be you, to be a brand new person just starting out. I heard that people who are dying sometimes talk of it as a gradual process, of being both in their body and beyond it, floating back and forth between the two. I believe that you might be doing the same, getting adjusted to your new body that will be both wonderful and limiting, and still going back to wherever it is that you are starting from. Heaven? I don't know quite what I think about where you are now, but I am certain that it is somewhere wonderful.
I hope that all you know is love. I will do my best to make it so for as long as I can. I hope that you always how loved you are. Even before I knew you, even before you were even YOU I have loved you.
I don't know when you'll make your way to us. I hope that it is sooner than later but I know that isn't up to me. But I'll be here, I'll be waiting for you, sweet baby. I cannot wait to start the rest of our lives together.