Dear Little One,
I promise to:
Never forget when we first found out about you. The disbelief that turned to shock that turned to complete and total bliss once your dad finally made me realize those two pink lines were in fact, the real thing.
Remember these moments in the late afternoon hours where all I can focus on are the movements you're making inside of me, and how each kick/hiccup/nudge is a reminder that your life truly is a miracle.
Remain grateful, even on the days when I realize I have absolutely no idea what to do when you cry. Because a cry means you are healthy and your lungs are working. And that is something I will never take for granted.
Hold that first day we saw you on the ultrasound screen deep in my heart. You were a tiny, beating being that we've watched grow bigger by the weeks. I love seeing your little arms up by your head, sleeping just like your dad and I do, and wondering what else you'll do that will take after us.
Remember what it felt like to dream about what you would look like, who you will be, and how amazing it will feel to watch you dance and sing and play and think to myself, "that's my daughter."
How we came to choose your name, and how perfect it sounded the first time we said it out loud. I think we've called you by name every day since, but only when it's just your dad and me. We love keeping it a secret from everyone else!
Never get rid of that first onesie I bought you, the day I found out you were a girl. It was soft and pink and tiny, and what sold me was the guitar on the front, a testament to your Nashville roots.
Foster your love for music by surrounding you with it any chance I get. I hope to always remember how much you like worship music, and how you get really active in church. I like to picture your little arms up in praise in there.
Read to you as often as I can, because you seem to love it already. Your dad and I take turns reading Dr. Seuss out loud to you at bedtime, and you kick in response to our voices everytime.
Remember how it felt to sit in your nursery, once I finally got the last piece of furniture in place. Even though it's tiny and you will soon outgrow it, just as we will soon outgrow our first home, it is my favorite room in the whole house.
Never miss an opportunity to tell you I love you and how lucky I am to be your mother. I hope you'll share your hopes and your fears with me, call me in the middle of the night whenever you're feeling lonely and need to talk, and come to me when you find yourself in a hard place. I promise to always listen just like your best friend would.
Tell you how beautiful you are anytime I think it. Which I know will be often, so I'll have to make sure and tell you when you're being a sasspot too, just to keep you grounded.
Treasure the feeling of being about to burst with love for you. I can now say I completely understand the "mama bear" complex, and how I would do anything in this world to protect you.
Cherish the sound of your laughter, knowing that even though we will have no idea what we're doing as parents, we must be doing something right.
Dream about your arrival into the world until the day you decide to make your debut, and how kissing each of those ten tiny fingers will finally feel.
More than anything, I promise to remember this feeling of gratitude, peacefulness, and deep, unconditional love for the fact that God saw fit to bring you into our lives at the perfect time. My cup runneth over that I could be so blessed. Only eight weeks until I meet you, baby girl. I know my life will never, ever be the same.
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