You have stolen my heart
2007-09-18   3:38 a.m.

Did you know that pregnancy is actually forty weeks? That means the average woman who makes it to full term is pregnant for ten months. That's only two months shy of a full year.

My point is this:

Get out.

I'm sorry. I love you darling my child, and part of the hurry is I can't wait to meet you. I can't wait to see if your eyes are shaped like mine or John’s. I already know you have his nose, the ultrasounds clearly show the Wilson profile there. I want to confirm that your tiny little lips will probably be the size of Angelina Jolie's, since everyone and their mother playfully accuses me and John of both having what has been dubbed "nigger lips". Don't ask me what that means, I take it as having a generally full mouth. I want to see what color your eyes are, if they are gunshot black, or maybe a light blue. (yes, it is COMPLETELY possible the baby could have blue eyes, there are plenty of blonde haired, blue eyed little ones running around my family. It's what happens when we mix with the white ones.) I want to hold you, and cry my eyes out as my hormones get the best of me while you take your first look around at this world you've been brought into. Ideally, it's not the best, but I'm going to try my damnedest to make it better for you. I want to hear you cry, even though in the hours after I will most likely wish you would stop. I want to hold you against myself, and know that these ten months of dreaming have finally become reality. I want to know that I actually have the most important goal in life now, to make you the best person I can teach you to be.

On the more selfish side, I'd also like you out because I'd like my body back to myself. I'd like to give your father no reason to blame it on my hormones and finally take into consideration what I could be feeling at any given time again. Because honestly, men have it the easiest I've ever seen. All they do is get their rocks off and sit back for the next ten months. John will never know what it felt like. He will never have to share his body so that a new life can grow inside of him. Prepare for the outside world. He will never know what it's like to take care of himself for someone else's sake. Knowing that every decision you make, from what you're putting in your mouth that day, to the type of air you're breathing and the type of physical activity you're doing, completely affects the life inside of you. He will never know any of that.

This, in turn is why you are wholly mine. No matter what happens between your father and I in the future, whether we stay together for the rest of our lives, or somewhere down the road we separate, you my little one, will always belong to me. You will always be connected to me; you will always have my heart. I will do anything in my being to keep you safe, protect you from as much as I can while still letting you live your life. Mind you, I make no promises to be perfect. In fact, I make you the promise that I will be imperfect. I make you the promise that I will make mistakes. Just like you will, little one. I hope that you will grow and learn from mine, but that you never hold back who you are. Because that is really the most important thing.

I'm honestly scared to death. I'm scared that someone, somewhere, some sort of higher being granted me the privilege of being your guide. Who in their fucking right mind would do that anyway?

But more important than that fear is... is you. So my little one, if you are ready, please come. If you aren't, take your time, but you are driving your mother mad by staying in there this long. I love you.