Dear Future Baby

Dear Future Baby,

(Sorry about the weirdo nickname. That is the unfortunate plight of the second child—you can't just be "baby," for how would anyone know whether I was talking about you or about your big brother? Some people say he's hardly a baby anymore, but you'll never convince me of this.)

It is only a few short days until we find out more about you. We'll find out about how big you are, how fast your heart is beating, whether you are as healthy as can be, and perhaps the most widely anticipated news of all, whether you are a boy or a girl. It's strange, this feeling of just a short time left of wonder and mystery and dreaming. As of now, I can imagine you as a little girl, dressed in an adorable little sundress and matching shoes. And I can just as easily imagine you as my sweet little boy, wearing the silly sports-themed clothing that all boys seemed destined for. Both are wonderful and amazing possibilities. But in just a few days, only one of them will continue to be a possibility.

In a way, that makes me a little sad. Believe me, I cannot WAIT to find out more about you. Knowing who you are and imagining our life as a family of four will be amazing, and it will help me prepare to meet you. But also, my baby girl or baby boy will be gone, if that makes any sense at all. I wonder if I am the only one feeling this way. I know there is no real loss here, only gain. But since you are probably-very-likely-pretty-definitely our last baby, I am about to find out whether I will never have a baby girl to smooch on or whether I will never again have a tiny baby boy to cuddle.

Enough of that sad part though. It is YOU I want to meet! Will you look like Milo? Will you look like Daddy, with dark hair and hazel eyes? Or will it take months and months before we can even tell what color your hair actually is? Or maybe you'll come out with a full head of hair and put Milo's current amount of hair to shame. Will you remind Daddy and me every day of Milo, or will you wow us with how totally unlike him you are, even though you have practically the same DNA? I'm sorry for the inevitable comparisons to your brother. I promise you, there will be no comparing the way I feel about you, because how can you measure a love that is bigger than anything I ever dreamed my heart could feel?

You've been rolling and kicking and punching me for a week or so now. I'm sure that as the weeks go on, I'll start to notice a pattern to your movements—when you sleep and when you are awake, which foods I eat make you want to dance, how well you tolerate a little caffeine. Maybe by that time Daddy and I will have chosen a name for you so I can say, "Future Baby, please quit kicking me! I'm trying to sleep!" And then I'll remind myself that being kicked from inside is probably better than being smacked in the face by a toddler, because at least this way I don't have to figure out how to discipline you.

But I digress. Point is, we still have lots of time to get to know each other before we ever look one another in the eye. I'm truly so excited to meet you. You are already such a wonderful part of our family.

See you next week.
Love,
Mommy