Dear Number Two,
You, my darling, have finally been made. After all that teenage angst and drama from your mama here, you slipped into our lives quietly and unexpectedly.
We had a quick look at you at the doctor’s about a week ago and it was beautiful. You are just a round little blob on the ultrasound but you are here, with us, reassuringly.
Just like your brother, you are a lesson for me to learn. Initially, I had been pessimistic. You see, with our history, I didn’t think it was going to be easy conceiving you. I didn’t dare to be optimistic at all, for fear of having my heart broken all over again. And this time, I knew that I didn’t want to go through fertility treatments to have a child. There was nothing for me to fall back on.
So I fretted and sighed. (Whenever I had the time to, that is. Between work and your brother, I hardly had energy to even watch TV!) Ideally, I wanted to have you in March or April, so that I could spend extra time with you before going back to work in time for the October semester. And when you didn’t arrive in time for March, nor in April, nor in May – I was sad.
And then it hit me that three women I knew had their babies due in March. Now that made me mad.
Didn’t God know what I was hoping for? Why was it that He gave it to other women but not me?
I was pissed off. I ranted to your father – just a little bit – and decided that sod it, I wasn’t going to care anymore. If we never had a second child, then SO BE IT.
Two weeks later, my period was late, I peed on a stick and BEHOLD. Your presence was announced to us, loud and clear.
I believe that the lesson God intended for me is that of patience.
Your brother was in the bathroom with me when I did the test – is he ever NOT in the bathroom with me, I wonder – and I told him to bring the stick to your dad. After cleaning it, of course. He ran, shouting PAPA! and shoved the stick into your father’s hands.
This means…? he asked.
I smiled. And then the grin on his face grew wider.
Welcome, my little one. We love you already.