Okay, this post is something I've been thinking about for a long time now.
I am, as most of you know, expecting our fourth child. He has come after some emotional times in my life (a.k.a. the miscarriage, finally getting in shape, running my 5K, new callings, etc.) and so I'm grateful that he is growing, that he is healthy, and that he is inside of me. I'm thrilled to have him coming soon and at the same time, I'm starting to feel that same nervousness that comes when the impending labor and delivery looms ahead. He moves around me a lot now, and he's big enough that I can actually see him moving (very alien-like). It's comforting and uncomfortable all at the same time. However, I feel that I owe him an apology. A big one. So here is my apology to my son:
Sweet baby boy,
Please forgive me. I did not know I was pregnant with you until 2 weeks after I should have known. I was not anticipating you --at all. I was still recovering emotionally from the loss of the previous pregnancy, and so I wasn't expecting or hoping for you to come to me so soon.
Forgive me son, because I pretended you were not there for 13 weeks. I know I ate the right things and tried to live as if I was pregnant, but I had a hard time admitting you were inside of me. I was still devestated --however minor --from my earlier loss, and so I didn't want to become attached to you. What if I lost you, too? How could I love you, if I was to lose you? I was guarding my soul --perhaps too much.
When I saw your sweet face for the first time at 13 weeks, I cried with relief. You were there and you were real. Most of all --you were healthy and perfect. I thought I could accept that you were okay and begin to love you all at once. But I couldn't. It took longer than I thought it would --forgive me for not loving you immediately.
Forgive me for still having doubts weeks later when I couldn't feel you move. Even after the appointments when I heard your heartbeat, I was still doubtful that you would survive. I was afraid --still afraid--that I might lose you. When I had to drive my nieghbor to the ER where she gave birth to her baby almost 3 months early --my doubts got worse. I tried to brush it off --nobody knew how I felt. But I was afraid. What if you came early, too? What if I did something I shouldn't have?
Forgive me, baby, for not thinking about you as often as I though about my other children. My life is so full of "priorities" --my calling, my piano students, my preschool, your brother and sisters, and all that comes with being a mother --that I failed to spend the time imagining you, loving you, and preparing for you. Forgive me for not thinking of names for you, or getting your clothes ready, or planning on your sleeping arrangements, etc. Time seems to slip away, and yet the "nesting" instinct hasn't kicked in yet.
Forgive me, sweet boy, for being preoccupied with the present --for sometimes forgetting you are there, waiting to come to us. I know you probably haven't even noticed anything wrong, but for a mother that has welcomed each child into her life from conception, I feel I have let you down somehow. Perhaps conned or gyped you out of love and attention that should have been yours.
So, forgive me, son. Know that I love you. Know that I am looking forward to meeting you and to having you in our lives. I promise to make it up to you, somehow.