Saturday, November 20, 2010
Dear Henry,
Dear Henry,
This will be the last time I write to you before your birthday. For the past ten months I've gotten to experience something amazing; something that I'd read and heard about from countless friends and family, seen on television shows and movies, studied in books, but I never understood it until I experienced it. Being pregnant is one of the most beautiful journeys I've ever been on. For 40 weeks I've grown you; half of your dad, and half of me. I've watched my stomach expand, and in turn, watched you grow, from a little tiny speck inside of my belly to a full-grown baby, ready to come out into the world. I've felt you move, kick, turn and toss. I've felt emotional, overcome with the idea that your papa and I have created this life, this person...you. There's been days where I just sit and look down at you, dreaming of all of the possibilities housed right inside of my body. I've nourished you, kept you safe, rubbed my stomach in the hopes that you could sense the love I was trying to send to you, and I've told you "I love you" more times than I can count.
The moment you are born, you are on your own path, but your father and I will always be with you every step of the way. These past months have been the happiest of our entire life, and I am sure that in the months and years to come, in the forever of our days, happiness is waiting for us.
As this phase ends, another begins. And although you won't physically be inside of my body anymore, I feel like I will always carry a part of you with me, as your mother. Wherever I go, and wherever you go, your heart is in mine.
So with that, I leave you with one of my favorite poems by e.e. cummings to commemorate these 40 weeks:
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
I love you sweet boy, and I cannot wait to meet you.
Love,
Your Mama
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Dear Henry,
letters to baby
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