A letter:
To the baby growing inside me, who has a heartbeat but no legal rights,
Whose kicks I feel daily, but who won’t count as a person
until you squirm right out of my womb
(be gentle, okay?),
You count to me.
I love you already.
When I think about you, I suck in my stomach a little bit
Because I can’t wait to hold you,
And sandwiching you between my abs and my intestines will have to do for now.
I take a deep breath so my lungs can hold you too
And exhale, wonder if you’re dreaming,
Wonder if you can read my mind,
Wonder who you will be.
And I know that a lot of parents think this,
But I’m pretty sure you’ll be awesome!
Whether you write poems and love letters
Or ride horses
Or play dominoes
Or finger paint
Or break dance
Or tap dance
Or play the saxophone
And joke with your friends that it’s called a sexophone.
And however the world hurts you,
— Because I’ve realized that we all get hurt,
That I can’t keep you truly safe even now,
But once you’re out in the daylight and oxygen I can’t even pretend —
Baby when the world hurts you
I pray you’ll turn it into something beautiful:
Know that every loss can remind you what you have,
That every regret carries a lesson
That every scar shows your strength
That you will not be the first to suffer any thing
Or the last,
And that you are the only you the world will have the chance to know.
I’m so glad I get to have a head start.
And if I’m ever too strict, remind me when I was pregnant we ate chocolate pretzels for breakfast.
Alyssa that was magnificent. It brought tears to your old aunt’s eyes.
…and a smile to your mom’s heart! You are going to be/already are such a good Mom. I’m glad you included the “chocolate pretzels” part.