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My dearest,
I hope one day you are here to read this letter, I hope you have enjoyed learning everything that brought you here. Yesterday, you were taken from the tiny device that has kept you safe and put in what we all hope to be your home for the next nine months. It was such a cold process, there was no big show, no congratulations at the end, no long procedure, or happy nurses and doctors. I walked in, changed out of my perfectly picked outfit, and put on a gown that exposed me, a cap to hide my freshly washed hair, and terribly big booties that covered just the smallest amount of my lucky pineapple socks. I felt like I was meeting you, like I had to work so hard to impress you, show you that I was a good enough home for you to stick around and grow in. I walked into the small white room with a table and a monitor. Still, nothing had hit me yet. The beautiful souls who helped you come thus far showed me your picture. The tiniest thing I have ever seen. How can something be so absolutely tiny and give me such hope? You are a ball of cells, yet you have a gender. You are a blend of your dad and me, yet you do not even have a heart yet. You needed help hatching to be sure you would get the best chance at sticking, yet you have not needed any help attaching to so many lives. It took all but five minutes to get you nice and comfy, that was it. Months of preparation for five minutes of life-changing science.
I do not know if you will stay. I do not know if I can give you everything you need to grow and survive. I can feel you trying though, the small cramps giving me small hope that you plan on sticking around. I am trying D, I am keeping my mind positive and my body busy. It is a weird feeling that I pray one day to explain to you. We have so many hopes and dreams for you already, so many goals for such a long-anticipated tiny human.
I am sorry your dad was not physically there the day you moved on in, he is working so hard to provide for us. He has reached so many of his own goals, trying to make sure you had everything we could possibly give you. But I promise he was so proud and so excited. He ran through the door the day you were transferred and got down and kissed you. Your existence will be our greatest goal of all.
I am not sure when we will share so much of this journey with you. You will always know how you were made, how hard we worked for you, how beautiful science is. But when you are reading this letter one day I want you to truly understand the power of love and what something so powerful can create.
May the love and strength your dad and me had when we worked so hard for you, pour out of your soul and into whatever beautiful life you create.
xoxo, Mom.