I can’t sleep tonight, baby.
It’s in the quietness, in the middle of the night when I think about not having you.
When I’m in a room alone with my own thoughts and fears that I ache for you.
Your daddy sleeps tonight; he’s right here beside me. I envy him right now.
Your daddy is very excited for you. He talks about you more now than he ever has. I think it’s because we have some hope now. I think it’s because we can believe you will be here someday … someday soon.
But, my darling, in this quietness, I still fear that I won’t ever get you. That I won’t ever feel you in my belly. I fear that I’ll never get to give birth to you … nurse you … finally have you here with me.
I’ll do whatever I can to get to you, but what if I can’t do enough? Your daddy has always told me that we will get you. Maybe he has said it because he believes it; maybe he has said it to keep my heart in tact.
But there are nights like these. These sleepless nights … Won’t I be a good mama to you? Why does she get hers, but I can’t have you?
Why does she get another one before I get you, my baby?
You see, I don’t know what’s going to happen. So much can change in just a few short weeks. I hope Miss Mary is taking good care of our gifts right now. But I don’t know. I just don’t know, sweet baby of mine.
I can’t wait to see your heartbeat and watch you grow in my belly. I can’t wait to hold you and feel you against my chest. I can’t wait to see Daddy’s face when you’re finally here, or to watch him buy you things at the store. I can’t wait for your Grandpa to tell you ridiculous jokes that no one understands, or your Grandma to hold you close. I know Grandma’s heart aches for you too.
But I hope we get to have you, baby. I hope Mary’s gift and Daddy’s gift and Mama’s womb get you here soon.
We have waited for you so long, my baby.
Please let me have you.
Oh, please, my sweet baby.