A final letter to our baby, scheduled for induction on Tuesday (August 13) morning at 41 weeks + 4 days late, to be copied into our Promptly baby journal for the final third trimester entry.
Dear Little One,
We are excited to meet you tomorrow (and not just because it means I’ll be done being pregnant).
The first time around I worried if I’d be able to keep a baby alive and I looked forward to sweet baby giggles and daytime adventures.
The second time around I worried about giving your brother the attention he needed and looked forward to month three when I’d be able to sleep again.
This time I worry about very little (mostly getting out the door to preschool with three kids a few mornings each week) and I’m looking forward to those middle of the night cuddles when it is just you and me. Those same night feedings I dreaded the first time around.
I look forward to our mornings home, just the two of us, while the big kids are at pre-k. I’ve also been dreaming of the first week home from the hospital while Lincoln and Adelaide are at Grandma’s and I can just snuggle you.
But I’ve also been dreaming of watching you grow into friendship with your siblings. I am not a perfect mom and some days you will deserve much better. Your dad is wonderful but he’ll fall short, too. You, though, are being born into a a family, a friendship, a squad of siblings that I could not imagine better. They are fun and loving and silly and determined. They pray for you and plan for you and I cannot wait for you to meet them. More than that, though, I cannot wait for five years from now when we all play on the beach together, or on the playground, or right here in our living room.
I hope you always feel how much I love you.
I hope I can help you learn to feel how much your Father in Heaven loves you.
I hope you help others feel that love, too.
I hope our home is a place where you feel safe to be you, however you are feeling, whoever you are. I hope our home is a place where you learn the power of kind words, of optimistic attitudes, and of forgiving + repentant hearts.
I hope Adelaide doesn’t poke your eyes and that Lincoln doesn’t drop you.
I hope we pick a name we love and that fits you.
I hope we have home cooked dinners and a clean house again at some point. I hope that I can keep a peaceful home on such little sleep. I’m counting on that line from a hymn, “as thy days may demand, so they succor shall be” because in these next months I think we might need more succor than we realize. But I find comfort in having done this a few times. And that each time, I’m better at it. Each time it is less scary, more joyful.
Oh little one, hurry up and get here. We’re excited to love you.