You are two lines on a stick. You are two lines on two sticks. You are not a blood test, not an ultrasound, not a warm milk-smelling weight in my arms. No doctor has told me you exist, but I don’t need one: the pain in my belly, the ache in my head, the midnight yogurt are all your messengers. The two lines, the four lines. They all tell me you are coming. They tell me you are here, waiting for us. As we have been waiting for you for so long.
Just wait a little while longer, sweet one. Soon enough you will be big and strong enough to come out and meet us face to face. Your big sister is already preparing for your arrival. She has big plans for what she is going to do with you: change your diaper, undress you, hold you gently, THROW! you up in the air. As you can imagine, we still have some distance to travel regarding appropriate handling of babies. You might consider it a good thing you’re tucked away safe inside for now. A few months ago, talking about the possibility of getting a baby sister or brother someday, she instantly jumped to her feet and said, “Yes! Let’s go!!” So you see she has been ready for you for a while already. She will love you so, so much, sweet baby, and you are going to adore her. Her blend of maternal and bossy will drive you crazy and make you feel safe, making her the perfect older sister. I should know, since I was an older sister, too.
Grow, sweet baby. Be healthy. Be strong. Come home to us – not too soon, not too late. We’re preparing a place for you.
(written a few days ago, before yesterday's doctor visit. aka my second 'flu' of 2011 that wasn't really the flu...)