My daughter (and I assure you we’ll have a proper name for you in due time):
I have been so focused on the medical condition known as pregnancy and the changes its meant in my life that I fear I have not documented enough thoughts about you, the person. Not you the fetus and how you’ve affected my bra size or sleep patterns; not you, the proficient cervix pummeler; not you, sister to Thalia.
Yes, you’re all these things. But I need you to know that you’re more.
You are joy–to those you know and even those you don’t. You are going to make strangers forget their missed subway, their bad meeting, their harried days, if only for that brief fleeting few seconds while they catch the eye of the smiling newborn in the stroller. Trust me on this one.
You are wisdom. Through you we will learn and grow and rediscover things about ourselves and the world that we hadn’t even thought to consider.
You are laughter. It’s your birthright. You can’t be born into this family and avoid it. No pressure though; just be you. You’ll see.
You are hope. In a world where it’s too easy to think what a mess this all is, and how dare we bring children into it, you are joining a family that takes the other view. We believe that you’re coming here in part to tip the balance a hair more towards good than evil, more lightness than dark. You’re going leave this planet better than it stood when you arrived. Is that asking too much?
But first we have to meet.
I’ll be the one with the IV in my arm, the huge smile, and the teary eyes.
See you soon.