A letter to my unborn son

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Hi. It’s me, your mom. This is a little weird, I know. Even though we haven’t formally met yet, we have spent every minute together for the past 27 weeks.

Sometimes I have to remind myself you’re there. Sometimes you remind me that you’re there. You sleep when I move and you move when I (try to) sleep.

You have already done so much cool stuff I didn’t get to do until I was way older. You’ve been to really cool concerts (like Beyoncé and Jay Z and Elton John and Weezer and the Pixies). I felt you dance during Rocket Man and I wondered if you really could hear what was going on.

 You’ve voted with me twice. And I hope you come with me to vote again and I can teach you the importance of standing up for what you believe in.

You’ve voted with me twice. And I hope you come with me to vote again and I can teach you the importance of standing up for what you believe in.

You have already been on a plane 12 times! You’ve been to both coasts, and have seen both oceans. You’ve been to Europe. You have attended more weddings in these 6 months than I’ve been invited to as a guest in my whole life. How many fetuses can say that?

Your favorite food is everything, especially things I can dip into a sauce. Eggrolls with duck sauce, french fries with ranch, carrots with peanut butter. I wonder if you’ll like these things outside of my belly as much as you do inside of my belly. I wonder if you’ll be as good of an eater as you’re making me.

You give me the most vivid and strange dreams. Sometimes I wake up wondering if what I dreamt was real or my imagination. I could never remember my dreams before you came along.

My sense of smell these days is so acute that I wonder if I can use the super power for fighting crime. In fact, that’s the moment I knew you were growing in there. We were shooting a wedding, and I got an overwhelming whiff of limes. I thought someone had spilled lime juice next to me until I saw someone, two tables away, squeezing a single lime wedge into their drink.

I took a test the next day and then I knew for sure. You were there.

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Your dad and I spent a long time together wondering when we should bring you into the world. We always knew we wanted you, but we didn’t know if we were prepared. We wanted to be sure you’d be taken care of. And then one day your dad told me he was ready. And suddenly I felt ready.

You must’ve been ready then, too. Because about a week later, you started growing in my belly.

You have made me sober and tired and irritable. I have given up things I’ve loved most in my life like beer and sushi and coffee. I didn’t even eat any cheese in Amsterdam. Do you know how hard it is to say no to cheese in a town that makes cheese? You don’t, but one day you will.

I hope you know, I gave up those things because I love you. And I want you to know that I will do so much more than just that. I will spend the rest of my life doing what I think is best for you.

And you probably will sometimes be mad at me and think that I’m annoying or that I don’t have your best interests in mind, but I promise you, I am going to try my best.

I have loved every second of knowing you already, buddy. Making you has been the coolest art project I’ve ever done.

I can’t wait to meet you. I feel like I already have.

Love,

Mama

PS Thanks for never making me puke. You did me a real solid there, dude.

 Photo of my dear friend  EFW Florals  and her son, Link

Photo of my dear friend EFW Florals and her son, Link