I love you.
Did I just say that to a member of the opposite sex without having met them? I guess I did. What's incredible is that I am completely, most positively sure how much I love you, and I've never even touched you with my fingertips. You've touched my insides, but that's a little different, and it sounds a little gross, so it doesn't count.
Just because I love you doesn't mean I'm not a little--a lot--nervous and afraid. I mean, you're going to be a lot to handle. The most I've had to deal with in this life is, well, myself. I'd say I'm probably my own problem most of the time. It's a little scary to think that instead of getting my tears wiped away, I'll be wiping all of yours away. And instead of someone holding my hair when I'm sick, I'll be wiping your head with a cold wash cloth, stroking your back, soothing you. I've only recently grown comfortable holding other little babies, thanks to your cousins, and I couldn't tell you the first step to getting a baby to have a regular sleep cycle, or how to potty train. I also don't do well without sleep, and the word on the street is that I won't sleep for the next twenty years. I hope you'll realize that I love you, even when I'm grumpy from lack of sleep.
Somehow, though, I know "everything will be alright" when you arrive in just a number of days.
That doesn't mean it's going to be easy. I hear you're going to be a pain--literally. Supposedly, after pushing you out, I'm going to have sore boobs, a sore butt, and I'll probably have bladder problems my entire life. I already have some stretch marks, which I despise, and I can imagine with my stomach will look like once it's...deflated. What's weird, though, is that I really don't mind. I'm not sure that I would be able to say that for many other people in my life, so you're one lucky dude.
We're going to have our good days and our bad days. I'm sure you'll hear me cry a few times--heck, who am I kidding? We'll be crying together, wondering why we aren't asleep, and I hope it doesn't bother you. In fact, this winter was slow and sorrowful. I hope it didn't bother you when my grandma passed away in November, or when my friend passed away in January. I couldn't help but cry a few times, but I felt your comfort, and I knew you were strong. Some say, "Don't get stressed; it'll hurt the baby." Well, things happen, and for me, it happened all at once. I knew I wasn't alone, and I knew that even if you felt my pain, you would be okay, and you are still here, beautifully active at almost thirty-nine weeks. I can't wait to tell you stories of my grandma, the woman who wanted to put her funeral plans away "until May," being just one of the many people in our family who have made a huge impact on me, and soon, you.
You're going to be a big boy, from what I've been told. I can tell. I have a huge stomach now, and the other night, you were sticking limbs out all over--enough, even, to wake me in the middle of the night. But, I love your size. It means I can feel your little feet stretching out on the right side of my stomach, under my ribs, and I can also feel you below my belly-button, pushing on my bladder. I can feel your length, and I'm guessing I feel the weight of your cheeks, if you got them from your mother, that is.
Your size and placement don't make things easy these days, but I'm okay with it, and I love you just the same. My love for you is much larger than the slight physical pain of pregnancy, or the increased trips to the bathroom.
Charlie, I really love you. You'll get to know me over the years, and you'll realize how completely weird I am. You'll hear my sarcastic jokes, but hopefully you won't pick the habit up too quickly. You'll probably hear me use choice profanity at poor drivers, or when I totally screw something up, or playing a serious game of Scrabble, but let's hope you won't pick that up either. Fingers crossed. You'll hear me sing at the top of my lungs, as I do now, and you'll probably ask me to stop, and it'll break my heart. But I hope you do pick up that habit of singing without a care. Your dad did, so you'll hear him sing all sorts of notes and pitches, without concern of whether or not they are correct. But he's super happy, and you'll see that, and that's important.
Speaking of him, I can't wait for you to meet your daddy. He loves children, and he is so excited to meet you. I can tell he is so proud of you already. He has been able to feel how active you are, and he likes to say that you'll be a "ninja baby." See? You'll like him. He's a little weird, too, just like me. Get used to weird. But know that we'll love you so, so much. Your dad is a tender, sensitive person, with a marvelous sense of humor, and a laugh that will forever stick in your mind. (He's not always a pushover, though, so he might be the tough one at times. More than likely, I'll be the tough one, but you'll get used to that.) Your dad is going to read to you, take you on walks, bring you in the yard to play, sing to you, and make you some excellent food. He's going to teach you so many things; he's so smart. Plan on asking him all of the important questions. He'll be able to tell you why the sky is blue and the difference between snow and sleet. You'll do experiments with him, and you'll learn to cook from him. You'll also witness how to treat a girl with respect. Since we're much older than you, and married, he will likely grab my butt in front of you, and I'll grab his right back, so I'm sorry for that in advance. You'll learn patience from him, and you'll learn how to be a good person. Whether or not you choose that route will be up to you, but know that I am confident I picked the best man to be your role model.
I should warn you: you will have three siblings when you enter this world. Their names are Sadie, Henry, and Ava, and they are here to love you. Sadie will act like your second mom, hovering and protecting. Ava will likely be a princess, but she'll want to share space with you, cuddling. Henry will lick you, and he'll lick you a lot. You'll probably love it, but I'll try to keep him under control. We'll have to come home every day and feed them, take them outside, but you'll probably love their company. They are some of the best pets. We couldn't ask for better.
You also should know that your daddy and I are both teachers. This means that we, at any time, could mention our "kids." When we say this, it means our bundles of rotating energy at school. You'll likely hear: "I love those kids," or other more negative things, after a bad day. You'll always be number one, though. I hope you see that both of your parents have the ridiculous gene that makes them inclined to help people, even if it takes extra time. Big hearts run in the family; this makes life more difficult sometimes, but it also makes life more rewarding. You'll see.
With that said, in just ten days, you are due to enter this world. I'm also turning 27. You'll be my birthday present, no matter what day you actually arrive. You'll be the best gift I've ever received. You've been handmade by God, so you are top quality. I won't have to wonder whether or not I'm getting you; I won't have to unwrap you. Sure, childbirth is going to be a heck of a lot harder than opening a present, but it'll be well worth it.
I don't know who you'll become when you're five, ten, fifteen, twenty-five, or fifty-five. I know I can't completely control who you become, as much as I may want to at times, so I'll try to let you figure things out. No matter what, you'll always be my baby, and I'll always be there for you.
Charlie, I completely love you, and I can't wait to meet you.
love, mom
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