I just found a journal I started a few years ago (2003!) to my future children. I’ve only written in it a few times, but even then I knew I’d be a mom, and I wanted them to know what I was experiencing and feeling at different points in my life. In 2008 I wrote that I hoped they knew how much they were wanted, whether they came from my womb or another womans’.
I wrote a new entry today, telling them how my heart broke when my sister told me she was pregnant again, how it was worse because just that morning I’d gotten proof I had not accidentally gotten pregnant myself. I told them how 10 is my lucky number, and so even though this year hasn’t started out so great, I hoped it would turn around. I wrote that I’d started this blog, to chronicle my journey to them.
I wrote that I was getting ready, and then, feeling a little mystical, asked if they were waiting for me. I think they are.
