Dear Kate,
You were due to be born today. October 7th is the day after your great grandmother’s birthday (who I still miss every day) and the day before your Aunt Nikki’s but you’re already two weeks old. It’s a beautiful day outside today, nothing like the past week of rain we’ve had, the sun is out, the air is warm, and the palm tree outside my window is gently rocking back and forth.
I can’t believe your journey in my belly has come to an end. I miss feeling you inside of me. You weren’t much of a mover but at night when things finally calmed down, your brother was in bed, and your father and I sat down to catch up with each other (and our DVR) you always let me know you were there. You were very shy when others tried to feel you, like you knew the difference between their touch and mine. You also always had the hiccups. Big ones. And you still do. It’s crazy to see how violent your chest caves in and out with each one and how uncomfortable they make you. I can’t believe you used to live inside my body. That you grew a full head of hair, became so big, so strong, and developed such amazing features, fingers, toes, and a personality in a bag of water inside of me. I can’t believe how perfect you are. I can’t believe how beautiful you are.
My pregnancy with you was certainly a roller coaster. There were many days through the summer that I complained and wished it would end but that all seems so far away now. I cannot tell you how badly I wanted you. My little girl. I’ve never been a girly-girl, never loved the color pink, never been very high maintenance, but I always wanted a girl and threatened to have a third child if I didn’t get you. I had several ultrasounds, sleepless nights, an amniocentesis, more doctor appointments than I can count, four shots of Rhogam in case we ended up with opposite blood types (and we did), a day in the hospital because I fell on top of you in the driveway but you’re tough and we were fine. You seem to know you’re not an only child. You are very low maintenance at the moment, you tolerate your brother even if you’re not sure if he’s trying to love you or hurt you (sometimes we’re not sure either), your father’s photo addiction, and my need to enjoy you and love you like crazy as I hold on to every moment like you are the last baby I’ll every touch. You are usually very quiet and when you’re upset your cry is raspy and hoarse. The doctor says you’ll be screaming at us in no time. You fuss when you’re hungry but you’re patient. You wail when you’re naked or get your diaper changed.
I will probably never be pregnant again and I’ve lost all the weight you (and all that ice cream) gave me, but you did leave a token of your stay, a scar across my belly where you were forced from since you were too stubborn (and your head was too big) to come on your own. The day you were born I was as big as a house. My belly was so large and so high that breathing had become a chore. I remember telling my doctor how bad I felt that you were resting so comfortably and warmly in my tummy just as he started to look for you and how upset and stunned you would be to be born. I was right. You cried from the moment they found you up in my ribs until we were reunited almost an hour later. Life will never be that simple again. I would do it all again though if it meant having a chance to meet you and hold you even for just a moment.
You are so much different from your brother. You look different, you have a different temperament, you are more tolerant of so much. Your father and I are different parents than we were with him too though. We are enjoying every minute of you, we know we won’t break you, we know that it’s ok for a baby to cry every now and again, and that a diaper can hold a lot more than one drop of pee. I keep saying how it is such a shame that you will only be little for such a short period of time. I do love this stage but I also have big hopes for you and I’m excited to see the person you will become. What will you look like? What career will you choose? What kind of partner will you want to marry and will you ever become a mother yourself? Will you be as close to me as I am to my mom? Will you love the things that I do? What kind of relationship will you have with your brother? There is so much I don’t know but I’m not in a rush to find out either. I promise to love you no matter what.
Our world is a little crazy right now. Politics are huge right now with our economy in the toilet and our president a disappointment. The election is next month and it will change everything, one way or another. I hope it brings good change and makes this world a little less scary for your future. Gas is $3.67 on our corner. It’s been worse but it has certainly been better. Education is very expensive right now but homes are cheap. Professional athletes make millions of dollars but teachers live paycheck to paycheck. I wonder how it will be different when you are my age, and I am 60. I wonder what you will do to help shape and change things and what impact you will have on others. I want nothing but the best for you and hope more than anything that you will grow up and be happy.
I could write forever, in run on sentences and rambling paragraphs just like the rest of this post. Just know that I love you. That you have completed our family. That I cry every time I realize I have everything I’ve ever wanted and I can’t imagine what I’ve done to become this lucky. At the same time know that I have no idea how I got here, when I grew up, how I got blessed with two amazing children, and became a wife and mother. Know that all I want is for you to feel love, even if you’re 16 and we say things that hurt because you’re making me crazy. I will always love you.
You will always be in my heart,
Your mom.








