Dear Baby,
It’s been an exciting 8 months. I’ve never grown a human before so I appreciate your patience as I’ve blindly felt my way through this pregnancy.
I feel you kick, punch, hiccup and squirm throughout the day. Your head is positioned squarely under my rib cage and because you’re either stuck, stubborn, or extremely comfortable, you will likely be making your worldly debut via c-section in three weeks or so.
Your dad and I are really looking forward to meeting you.
I know you didn’t get much of a say in the matter regarding who your parents are, but rest assured we’re pretty decent people. We have a dog named Lady who will be turning 15 years old in March. Lady’s a good pooch (eh, 96% of the time) and because she’s apparently immortal, you’ll have plenty of time to get to know one another.
You’ll figure it out soon enough, but I have a soft spot for animals. If I’m being totally honest, I sometimes find it easier to connect with animals than I do humans. My hope is that we raise you to feel compassion for the things around you – animals and humans alike – and you feel compelled to help even those (especially those) who can do nothing for you in return.
You see, your father is a helper who also happens to be super smart. He’s a physician who spends the majority of his waking hours helping people live better, longer lives. Sometimes he needs a bit of guidance with the more mundane household tasks (he tried to burn our house down with a Pizza Pizzaz last year) but he has a huge heart and a kind soul. I can’t wait to see which of his qualities you inherit.
You’ll probably notice the Irish baby books in your nursery. Because your dad is Irish and I’m American, you will have dual citizenship. Although we live in the United States, your Irish heritage is every bit as important as your American upbringing. I’d actually love it if you inherited your dad’s accent, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work like that.
I don’t know yet if you’ll be fed by breast or bottle. I don’t know if you’ll go to daycare or I’ll end up staying home. In my head, you have my red hair and blue eyes but of course, I don’t know that either. What I DO know is that you will be fed, you will be cared for, and you will (as far as I know) have hair and eyes. The details will work themselves out.
I’m a bit terrified to bring you home from the hospital because – let’s be honest – I have no idea what I’m doing. I feel like people should have to pass a test or something before being allowed to reproduce. Anxiety and unknowns aside, please know that you are already so, so loved. We’ll figure this out together, baby.
Love,
Sarah (but you can call me Mom)
P.S. I hope you like the name we’ve chosen. If not, it’s your father’s fault.
