A Letter For My Son
Dear Little Buddy,
I’ve spent a good deal of time complaining about the discomforts of carrying you. I’ve tried to make light of the moments that are difficult and awkward. That’s what I do. I deal with things that make me emotionally uncomfortable with humour. But I’ll tell you a secret. I wouldn’t change one second. Not one single moment. Because I love you, and it will all be worth it a million times over.
These last few days are tough. It’s hot. I’m having a hard time moving around because you’re getting a bit heavy. My feet are dry and itchy. I have heartburn. I now have some stretch marks as you push my little body to its extremes. But in a few days, I won’t remember and I won’t care. Because you’ll be here and your face will erase the price of bearing you and passing you into this world.
So, I should remember today. These could be our last few days or hours or minutes together, just us. You are a part of me and I am a part of you. You are mine and I am yours, nothing will ever change that. But these are the last few moments that we don’t have to share each other with anyone else, and I should stop complaining about them and remember how special that is.
When you get here, there will be a lot of people around, and they are all going to be so excited to meet you. Don’t get freaked out, because I’ll still be there too. You’ll know the sound of my voice, and the feel of my skin and the smell of my breath. You’ll know, because you and I know each other like no one else can know one another. And I pray that you’ll have that security always. Always knowing where I am and that I am here fro you. Because I am yours, and you are mine.
I can’t wait to see the face I’ve dreamed about. To see if you have curly hair. If it is dark like mine and Daddy’s, or light like your sister’s. I can’t wait to let your little fingers curl up around mine and smell your perfect skin. But a part of me will miss you. Because for 40 long weeks you belonged to me alone. I felt every movement and hiccup. I saw you roll around and stretch and I will miss you.
No matter how much I complained, I will miss you. I will look down at my scars of motherhood, and sometimes wish I could have you all to myself again. Because no matter what the cost, you are worth it.
See you soon.