The other day, you stretched. Tiny limbs growing and pushing out in all directions. You are slowly, but steadily, outgrowing this space where I’ve kept you safe for all of these months. You will keep outgrowing the guards I put in place to keep you safe. I’ll keep building new ones.
I reached down and felt – was it a foot or a hand? – distinctly change the shape of my belly. The moment my hand rested there, you moved. And then you bounced around. Like a little game of hide and seek. Already, you make me smile.
We spent an entire morning in your room on Sunday. Your Dad, your sister, and me. Decorating and preparing for you to dream there.
Your due date is less than 2 months away now. And, this time around, you are lucky that I know that date means very little. I can’t promise that I won’t be willing you to come out, or walking miles and miles, or eating spicy foods, as that day approaches, just like I did with your sister. But I know you need to make your own way. Come out when you are good and ready.
Less than 2 months away. We’re talking now about the day you arrive. And the day after. And all of the ones after that. Making plans for your first moments in this world.
Your sister tells me daily that she can’t wait for you to come. She wonders what you’ll look like. She decides that you will look like her. Brown eyes. Brown hair. She’s probably right but I wonder too. And I can’t wait to find out.
Less than 2 months until we meet you.
And we are counting the days.