I have been considering a post solely dedicated to my unborn child for quite some time now, though I have also been reluctant to write it. My family is close to my heart, and writing to and about them is difficult. It is not because I am ashamed of them, it is because my feelings are so deep that I have a hard time expressing myself in words. I am sure there are many who can relate to the inadequacy of words in situations like this. Nevertheless, I intend to try.
Dear Little One,
It is hard to believe seven months have flown by since I first found out I was pregnant. You were planned. We wanted you. We still want you. We will always want you. Nothing that happens in your future will make your dad and I change our minds. It is surprising just how much love we have for you and we have not even had the opportunity to meet you face to face.
Even though you are small, you are strong and healthy which is a blessing and a relief. Right now you weigh a little over three pounds and I can feel the outline of your hands and feet when they press outward on my tummy. When you move, my whole abdomen changes position to reflect it. I think you like to catch me by surprise sometimes by holding still for a couple hours at a time and then stretching out as far as your limited space will permit. It is odd to have you moving inside me. There is nothing else like it in the world. I will miss your constant company inside me when you are born.
Can I tell you something personal? I am afraid. For years I assumed I was at least somewhat prepared for motherhood because I am the oldest child in my family. I have had plenty of experience changing diapers, babysitting, and taking care of babies and small children, but it is completely different now that I am pregnant with you. All of a sudden I realize I am not just responsible for you sometimes, but all the time. I do not only need to know how to attend to your physical needs, but your emotional and spiritual ones as well. In other words, I have no idea what I am doing. I used to roll my eyes at mothers who expressed anxiety that they were and never would be enough for their children. After all, it isn’t rocket science. It turns out I was right and wrong. It isn’t rocket science, it is something much more complicated and important.
I am going to mess things up sometimes. I am not perfect and I know I never will be in this life. The truth is, I am not cut out for this parenting thing on my own. If left to my own devices, I would probably mess things up so bad that everyone in our family would need counseling or something because of my woeful lack of experience and ineptitude. The good news is, your dad will be there to help me, and so will God. There will be other helps along the way, which I am grateful for, but those two are the most important in my eyes.
Your father is the best man I could hope for as a husband. He is gentle, kind, and he honors God. He works hard, and is one of the most selfless people I know. I wish you could hear how excited he gets when he talks about all the things he wants to do with you and for you as you grow up. I wish you could see the look of love and tenderness he gets whenever he talks to you and plays with you through my tummy. I can tell the two of you will have a special relationship.
Even more than a bond with your father or I, I hope you develop a relationship with God, and His Son, Jesus Christ. It means more than I can say. They know you better than I ever could. They want the best for you and know exactly how to help you even when I do not. I foresee many days down on my knees asking for help in your behalf. It is comforting to me that He will answer my prayers, and will make up the difference in any area I lack as I do my best to love you and raise you in a manner pleasing in His sight.
It is funny how your impending arrival has affected your family. I told you about how your dad acts, but rest assured there are other people excited to meet you as well. My mother, your Grandma Moore, has had fun baby shopping and is getting ready to come up and meet you when you are born at the end of April/ beginning of May. Your Grandpa Moore is just as excited and is calling to see how you and I are doing now that you are due to come in a couple of months. Your uncles and aunts are all ready to meet you too. Your Grandma Bishop is even hand-quilting a blanket for you. We will have to save it for you after you get too old to use it anymore.
I cannot finish this letter without giving one piece of advice. Always be true to God, to yourself, and to your family. Ultimately, if you are true to God, you are being true to yourself and your family, but it felt important to include them. Sometimes it doesn’t hurt to have other things to double and triple check. Just so you know, following this piece of advice (which I have received from people I know and love) will sometimes mean that you have to make difficult choices. Some choices are heart breaking. You may have to lose friends, or girlfriends, or jobs. Some things will bring you to your knees and you will wonder how you will ever recover. People may ridicule you, betray you, leave you because you make the choice to do what is right. It is worth it. You are worth it. Eternity with God and your family is worth it.
I love you. I hope the best for you. I wish I could shelter you from all the hard, cruel things in this world, but at the same time I know that you will go through them. If you rely on God you will be alright though. Your father and I will be there for you as best we can to help you on your journey in this life. In the mean time, keep kicking, and stay safe.
All my love,