Welcome to my blog, the first entry of which is long overdue. There are so many things I’ve wanted to do during my first pregnancy and this blog is one of them. In the midst of working, having a long daily commute and being floored by a bout of bronchitis, I haven’t gotten much done. Designing a mostly handmade nursery and writing to my baby are other things that I’ve wanted to do but completely neglected so far. So, I thought I’d accomplish two things at once and make my first blog post an overdue note to my little unborn.
Thanks for visiting and I hope you’ll follow my blog as I navigate the miracles of life, both vast and small.
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Dear Sweet Baby ~
Today marks 17 weeks you’ve been growing inside me. I still can hardly believe it, despite the large, healthy swell of my tummy. Until today, you’ve seemed so fragile and vulnerable, but I’m finally starting to feel your palpability and strength. Despite the astonishing images of you resting inside me, I used to worry you were somehow not real or that you’d disappear into thin air. I’ve still yet to feel you move, but I know you’re in there, enjoying this peaceful time to grow into the beautiful person I know you will be.
It’s amazing to have a human life developing inside of me — there’s just no other way to put it. It’s the most simple and yet complex miracle there is. It’s not easy by any stretch — not physically, mentally, emotionally or financially — but miracles probably shouldn’t be.
You weren’t part of any plan, nor did you arrive at some premeditated moment in my life, but I can’t imagine a more perfect way for you to come into it. Not being the most structured person, I probably wouldn’t have ever gotten around to feeling “ready” for you. I can’t think of many things in my life I felt ready for when they happened. But seeing now that every step along the way brought me closer to you — perfect, unique, extraordinary you — makes it all seem divinely right.
I’m sorry if I haven’t always been strong, and I know I haven’t been brave all the time either. It’s just that you seem so very precious. I don’t always know how I’m going to protect you, keep you safe and happy, instill in you a bold and free spirit. How can I teach you all the things I’ve yet to learn myself? I suppose we’ll have to learn some things together. We’ll have to remember that we were once connected in the most sacred and finite way, and we’ll have to lean on each other as only family can. I promise to always be there for you, even if I don’t always know what to say or do.
Today is a stunning, sparkling day. I’m sitting outside so we can feel the sun and wind together, and be thankful for a few peaceful moments in this otherwise chaotic life. I hear an ice cream truck in the distance, and the sounds of children’s voices as they laugh and play. It’s incredible to think you’ll be like that one day, vibrant and joyful and complicated and free. If I close my eyes, I can see you climbing a tree and running with the sun shining in your hair.
It will be an honor to meet you.