I’ve been staring at this screen for ages now, and I’ve started this letter to you many times. I have so much to say, yet don’t know where to start. I’m having a hard time filtering my thoughts into coherent sentences.
We’re ‘ready’ for you now. We have everything we need, Aunty Deshaine is here. Nana is here. Everyone is here, watching and waiting, ready for you. According to ‘dates’ you’ve been in there for 41 weeks and two days. Your sister was born at 40 and six days, and I quite liked the idea of a leapyear baby, but you weren’t all that interested.
I have been trying to connect with you, trying to speak to you and feel you and have been making efforts to bond with you and really get to know you. I’ve been trying to make notes of the differences between your pregnancy and Ameli’s. I’ve been trying to prepare the world for you and you for the world. I’ve been trying to identify your personality. I’ve been growing in my love for you, picturing holding you, picturing sleeping next to you, dancing with you, carrying you. I’ve been imagining you as a real part of our lives, and now, sweet child of mine, I am ready for you.
It’s funny, how people say there are so many differences between your first and second pregnancy, and they aren’t wrong. First time round, I had nothing but time to focus on this new life and to wonder and question and imagine. This time round, there’s been so little time, and these last ten weeks have flown by so fast I have felt myself shocked to discover we’re actually at ‘term’.
And yet I have this excitement bubbling up inside me. I wonder what it will be like holding a new born again. I wonder what it will be like falling so incredibly head over heels for another child. I wonder how it’s possible for my love to grow even further and awed in advance by the life we’re about to embark on.
I’m nervous too. I’m pretty sure of my dates, I know when you were conceived, because we moved house and immaculate aside, there’s no way you were created earlier than that. But that scan we had, and the fundal measurements and LMP all said 23 February, so I doubted myself and believed their dates. Now here we are on the 3rd of March (my date is either 3 March or 8 March) and aunty Desh is getting ready to go back to South Africa already, and you’re not budging. We’ve tried the pineapple, the sex, the walking, the curry, and I even had acupuncture this week. You’re just not ready.
Which reminds me, we had an accident and a miracle yesterday. I was busy frying root vegetables for a 3-root vegetable crisps lunch, when something went wrong and I knocked the frying pan, oil flew everywhere. Bubbling, boiling, hot oil hit the cupboard the floor my right arm, my clothes and covered my right foot and I slipped on the oil, twisting my pelvis, banging my wrist against the cupboard and grabbing into the flame to try to stabilise myself. The laminate on the floor and cupboards has bubbled up where the oil hit it. The oil that covered me felt cool. I have no burns, no blisters, no scars. Only my wrist and pelvis hurt from where I fell. I think we were Divinely protected yesterday, and I am so grateful.
Well, I have a midwife appointment this morning and we’ll see what she says. I think the fact that all this is based on one scan means they’ve taken your tall measurements, like your sisters and put your ‘due’ date too early. I think it’s going to be a major disappointment for your aunty, who is likely to miss your birth, and it’s stressful for me as, despite my trust and my faith in nature, there are always the ‘horror stories’ of overdue babies, post date stillbirths and all that. I think if anything I’ll just make sure the placenta is still doing well and we’ll take it from there.
I love you baby. I don’t want to force you out if you’re not ready. I just really want to see you now.
Love you, darling child.