Letter to my unborn son

I was rifling through the clutter of documents on my laptop when I stumbled accross a letter that I had forgotten about. It was a letter I had written when I was pregnant with Z.

Disclaimer: It's ultra mushy and not very eloquent; I blame pregnancy brain.

Baby boy,

I can feel you hiccupping as I type this; you do that pretty frequently these days.

The rhythmic popping inside of me tickles, but it is also a comforting reminder to know you’re doing just fine.

Rubbing my swollen belly, I wonder what it will be like to finally be a mother.

(For the past nine months, I’ve only been a walking incubator.)

Although I have had my share of nausea, restless nights and discomfort, I know the hardest and best days still lie ahead.

I wonder what you will look like. I imagine your blue eyes and dark hair like your daddy.

(But then again, it could be that you’ll be sporting my blond locks instead.)

I also wonder if I am selfless enough to care for a new life.

(Up until this point, I admit I’ve been self-centered.)

Will I live up to your needs and desires? Can I handle the exhaustion and muster the patience required of a new mother?

I still struggle with the concept that in just two short weeks, I will be holding you in my arms rather than my womb.

I can kiss your cheeks and rub your back.

(I can count all of the little toes that have been punting my ribs.)

Everything about both of our worlds is about to change. Are we ready?

I can’t wait to meet you.

What have you done/plan to do to commemorate your pregnancy?