Little one,
We are weeks, if not days, from meeting. Weeks at most, which feels so wild to say. This pregnancy has felt both endless and instant. Here we are, at the end of the first part of our forever adventure. Words feel ridiculous right now--how do I do the process justice? How do I express every corner of it--the pure weather of feeling that destroyed and built me over and over again? How do I explain how deceitful the mirror felt, how every single day I surrendered. Even on the days that I refused to.
Your grandfather says I've changed. He makes a point to mention it separately from anything else we are discussing, usually waiting until the end of a phone call to bring it up. He states it with a smile. When I want to know how, he doesn't have the words for it either. Where are all the words for these things going?
The other day I told a close friend about your two vessel cord--how we had to go to the high risk unit for extra monitoring to make sure you were growing. I asked so many questions about every inch of you they measured--marveled at the brain, the flicker of heart, the tiny spot of kidneys in place. You, little one, put all the odds into a chokehold. I'm already in awe of your resilience. You are healthy and beautiful, with your father's absurdly full lips and my nose. I stare at the black and white screenshots of you throughout my days. I sit in your nursery and feel myself missing you even though you aren't here yet. I turned my vintage suitcase into a bookcase for you. I readied the walls with poems and a photo of your namesake. We wait as patiently as we can for your arrival.
I've written you letters throughout this pregnancy, something just for you when you are older. I don't hide from you in those bits of correspondence--I have expressed exactly how hard this has been for me at times. I've also rambled about how wanted you are, how much of this world I cannot wait to show you, and also the things I wish more than anything I could forever protect you from. The weight of the world is heavy at times. These letters have kept my mind and heart busy, kept me tethered to you. A heartful of dispatch. You, my little radio signal. Brand new love of my life.
See you soon.
We are weeks, if not days, from meeting. Weeks at most, which feels so wild to say. This pregnancy has felt both endless and instant. Here we are, at the end of the first part of our forever adventure. Words feel ridiculous right now--how do I do the process justice? How do I express every corner of it--the pure weather of feeling that destroyed and built me over and over again? How do I explain how deceitful the mirror felt, how every single day I surrendered. Even on the days that I refused to.
Your grandfather says I've changed. He makes a point to mention it separately from anything else we are discussing, usually waiting until the end of a phone call to bring it up. He states it with a smile. When I want to know how, he doesn't have the words for it either. Where are all the words for these things going?
The other day I told a close friend about your two vessel cord--how we had to go to the high risk unit for extra monitoring to make sure you were growing. I asked so many questions about every inch of you they measured--marveled at the brain, the flicker of heart, the tiny spot of kidneys in place. You, little one, put all the odds into a chokehold. I'm already in awe of your resilience. You are healthy and beautiful, with your father's absurdly full lips and my nose. I stare at the black and white screenshots of you throughout my days. I sit in your nursery and feel myself missing you even though you aren't here yet. I turned my vintage suitcase into a bookcase for you. I readied the walls with poems and a photo of your namesake. We wait as patiently as we can for your arrival.
I've written you letters throughout this pregnancy, something just for you when you are older. I don't hide from you in those bits of correspondence--I have expressed exactly how hard this has been for me at times. I've also rambled about how wanted you are, how much of this world I cannot wait to show you, and also the things I wish more than anything I could forever protect you from. The weight of the world is heavy at times. These letters have kept my mind and heart busy, kept me tethered to you. A heartful of dispatch. You, my little radio signal. Brand new love of my life.
See you soon.
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