Your movements in my belly mean a lot to me. They’re a signal that you’re okay, maybe even better than okay. You’re stretching, moving your tiny muscles, getting stronger. I’m amazed that you will soon begin to turn yourself so that your head is down, getting your body ready to come out of mine. How do you know how to do that?
I hope I’ve made you well – that my belly is keeping you warm, that what I’m eating is making you strong. I hope you get all the good genes from myself and your dad, though I’m pretty sure your dad has many more good genes than I do.
Once you’re here, you will already know me. You’ll know my smell, my voice, my heartbeat. I’ll comfort you whenever you need it. I have the feeling that you’ll comfort me sometimes too.
I already think about the things I’m going to teach you, the things I will tell you. I won’t be afraid to cry in front of you – I don’t want you to think there is any shame in being sad. You don’t always need to put on a happy face; we are not robots, and we are not here to please others. We are only supposed to look after ourselves and the ones we love, that’s the same for everybody, though I think many forget it.
Life is really confusing, and I don’t think it ever stops being confusing. There’s always decisions to make, no matter how big or small they are, no matter how big or small you are. Sometimes your decisions work out well, sometimes they don’t. It’s okay because as long as you’re trying your best – that’s all one can really do.
You might find that life gets a bit ordinary, a bit samey. Sometimes you’ll wish for change, for action, for drama, and don’t you worry, you’ll get that, probably when you’re not ready for it. Somedays you’ll be perfectly content with the way things are, the way you live your life, the way your routine is set out for each morning, each day. Those parts of life are to be cherished just as much as when something exciting happens – stability is underrated. Just because your life isn’t hectic doesn’t mean you’re not living a good life, it doesn’t make your life any less of an adventure.
You and I and your daddy will have lots of adventures. We’ll have lots of important and unimportant conversations. We’ll bicker. We’ll giggle. We’ll teach each other in lots of different ways. We’ll be normal and abnormal, like most families are.
It might be a little odd but I want you to know everything about me, so that you’ll be comfortable sharing everything about yourself with me. Maybe that’s a little selfish, maybe you don’t need to tell me everything – but just knowing that you can will be good enough for me.
Everybody has tough times, everybody makes mistakes, everybody tries to survive the best they can. You’ll be no different, and I’ll be there for you, whenever you need me.
In a practical sense I’m not ready for you at all. I have no money, I barely have any of the ‘things’ you need, I don’t even have a proper home sorted for you yet. Even though I am absolutely terrified of getting (even) bigger, of these last 11 weeks rushing by, of bringing you into this world; I can’t wait to hold you.
I love you.
This is only a tiny amount of what I want to tell you, but I think it’s a good start.