My firecracker, my little jumping bean, my constant companion, you are ever present these days. Physically, you become more obvious by the day - my belly gets rounder and your kicks are now visible. You remind me to slow down, to savor these fleeting days when life is fragile yet steadily protected.
We are dreaming of nursery colors and rocking chairs. And I imagine what it will be like to hold your weight in my arms surrounded by greys and whites. What will it be like to feed you at 2am (and 4am and 6am) rocking in that chair or this one? I know I will be tired, I know I will have moments of silently pleading you back to sleep. But you know what I can't imagine? I can't imagine how my heart will grow and grow when I look at you. It's not that I worry I won't love you. I worry because I know I will love you in the same heartbreakingly fervent way I love your brother.
I know what it is like to love a child, a fire that sweeps in and takes over small corners of your heart that were starving of oxygen. You are my new fire. I can only imagine what places in my heart you will bring to light.
Love,
Mom
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