Dear Little one,
I wrote you a letter a little while back, around 20 weeks, and while I thought about blogging it, I kept it to myself. It was pretty raw and really not for the world wide web. But I haven't written directly to you since then and wanted to do so. This coincided with your dad encouraging me to not be afraid of writing about heavier, more substantive topics. So, here's the down and dirty. I have wanted to have a baby for a thousand years. Years of medical issues had me convinced this wouldn't happen biologically. The blessing there is that over the years I came to adore the idea of fostering and adopting and am very open to that happening for our family one day. But I didn't need to be afraid. God decided I needed you, and maybe, you needed me.
So, here we are, 31 weeks into sharing a body space, and I am supposed to be 100% giddy, grateful, zen, peaceful, humble, gracious, fill in the blank. And since the reality is that some days I am 90% those things, and other days 50% those things, I feel a little guilty. But one day you may become a parent. And whether you are the incubator like me or the man supporting the incubator like dad, I think it's okay to be real here. So, without further ado, a list of the reasons I love you anyway.
Even though every day of the last 31 weeks I have felt like acid is being poured into my esophagas for most of the day, I love you anyway.
Even though I got a buy one get one free deal, a bump on the front and a bump on the back, I love you anyway.
Even though I have researched horse tranquilizers to quell the raging hormones that have put your dad on his knees, I love you anyway
Even though I haven't slept through the night since November, I love you anyway.
Even though I pee 426 times a day and 720 times a night, I love you anyway.
Even though you have discovered my ribcage and use it to a) prevent me from taking deep breaths b) stop me from eating the last 12 bites of cheesecake and c) practice your kickboxing skills, I love you anyway.
Even though my face looks like I swallowed a basketball, I love you anyway.
Even though my previously rock hard lower abs (if I do say so myself) were very strong and now they stretch, cramp, pull, stab, and twist trying to hold you up, I love you anyway.
Even though I have not felt the energy (will power??) to step foot in a gym since we found out about you, I love you anyway.
Now, little person, to be fair, I hope that you will forgive me the following, and maybe love me anyway too.
Even though I may have given you my sugar addiction by feeding you too much junk, I hope you will love me anyway.
Even though I am awwwful about giving you enough water each day (does the water in sweet tea count?) I hope you will love me anyway.
Even though you have already heard me wail and cry and yell at poor dad in hormonal craziness, I hope you will love me anyway.
Even though I have spent hours in target bemoaning sizes and shapes and cost of dressing this bump and have sometimes lost sight of the fact that this bump is actually YOU living and breathing inside of me, I hope you love me anyway.
Even though it may take us a minute to get to know one another once you are born and the connection might not be instantaneous, I hope you love me anyway.
Even though the connection may be immediate and I may refuse to let anyone else hold you, I hope you love me anyway.
Even though I am a bazillion times less adventurous and energetic than your dad, I hope you will love me anyway.
Even though I have not read one pregnancy book cover to cover and have skipped over all scary parts in the ones I have perused, I hope you will love me anyway.
Even though I don't think I can do natural childbirth and am using disposable diapers, I hope you will love me anyway.
Even though childbirth class stressed me out and I am a little afraid of being physically connected at all times with breastfeeding, I hope you will love me anyway.
Even though I don't pray often enough, eat healthy enough, exercise diligently enough, tell your dad I love him enough, pet Monty enough, dust, sweep and vacuum enough, I hope you will love me anyway.
You precious little person, I hope that now begins a lifetime of us showing each other grace, forgiving each other's weaknesses, and loving each other to absolute pieces.