It seems kind of strange to write you a letter, seeing as you're curled up inside me right now, testing out the mobility of your limbs against my uteral walls. That and I talk to you all day, every day. And when I want to feel you, to rationalize this crazy idea that you really are mine, that you really are growing within me, I nudge you until I feel you kick out against me. Its a weird feeling knowing you're so close, but in a sense you're still pretty far away.
Though I cannot wait until I can hold you in my arms, to feel you nuzzle your head into my neck, to breathe in your sweet baby scent, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I am totally in love with being pregnant with you. I love knowing you are growing within me, I loved feeling your first flutters of movement and now your much more practiced and perfected art of kick boxing. I love knowing you get everything you need without having to so much as bat an eye, that my body just provides the way God intended it to. I love that you and I, together, are a part of moving the world forward, having joined the history of millions and millions of women and babies who have expanded our species, who continue our existence. I love that I have been there for you, from day one, since you made the journey of one cell to billions.
But most of all, I love how safe you are in me. How there are no bullies to push you around (aside from Baylee the dog, who absolutely insists on stepping on my belly every time she comes near me...), no disappointments, no fears. No hunger, no cold, no pain. You are completely safe and protected. I sometimes vow to myself that even once you come screaming into this world I will do everything to make sure you are still completely safe and protected. Which, between your Daddy and I, we will. But I will have to watch myself. I already can't stand the thought of watching you fall. But how, then, will you learn to walk? I can't stand the thought of watching your feelings get hurt, but how, then, will you know a true friend? I can't stand the thought of watching you experience disappointment, fail over something you tried so hard for, not meet a goal. But how, then, will you understand success? This awful, beautiful world we live in offers no life worth living that doesn't come with a few bumps and bruises along the way. So while it is my job to protect you, I also know and fully understand that it is my job to let you live.
I promise I will try my best to let you live your life. To be a child. To fall over a toy, to bump your head on the table, to play on the ground and get filthy. To talk to a stranger, eat something off the floor, to blow your nose on your sleeve. I will do my best to protect you from the craziness of our world, as long as it is what's best. But I realize one day you will grow up, and you will join the world in all of its awful wonderfulness, in its craziness and its beauty. And if we've done our job, if your Daddy and I figure this whole parenting thing out like we plan, you will be prepared.
Baby Billiau, the one thing you are guaranteed in this life is to be loved. We don't know what the future holds. We can't begin to guess how our country, how the world, will unfold. There will undoubtedly be changes we cannot predict. But we do know that regardless of what is going on in this world, you will be loved. Your Daddy and I already love you so much we ache inside with it, dying for the chance to see your sweet face, to hold you in our arms, to see the person you'll become. You have grandparents and aunts and friends who love you. You have more people than I can count praying for you. You have a God who already knows you, loves you and calls you His own. You will never, ever be without love. And regardless of whatever else you may be lacking, that will take you a long, long way.
We really cannot wait (but we will! Please stay nice and snug in there!) to meet you. But for now, we are completely content feeling you thrive and grow within me. We love you like no love we've known before.
Your Mommy (and Daddy, too!)
Sweet Sweet Baby Ultrasound from Kristin Billiau on Vimeo.