I've written to you before you began. I started writing just to journal. My desire to be a mother was so great. And, I wanted you to never doubt how much you were wanted, cherished. I knew, as my mother's daughter, I wouldn't always be good at showing you love. I suspected, like my mother, I would seek space between us sometimes. As you pulled closer, I imagined history would repeat itself, and I- the mother- would pull away. It was genetics. Still, I wanted you to know what I was certain I wouldn't be able to show. So, I wrote.
I wrote about desperately wanting a child. I wrote about a time, as a young adult, I went to the beach with my best friend and her first child. This was a friend I'd had since college. We were wild together. We did things I hope you never will. But, you will. It's genetics. Her toddler daughter was playing in the sand. She was gorgeous! Her brown curls escaped beneath her sun hat. I regarded her sun-kissed cheeks, the folds of her chubby legs, and I ached. So, I wrote more.
I have written to you since I dreamed of you. I have written to you since I longed for you. I have written to you since I learned my fallopian tubes were blocked by scar tissue from my many surgeries related to a brain injury. I have written to you when I learned that an egg doctors had extracted from me was fertilized, by my husband's sperm, in a petrie dish. I have written to you while self injections made my womb an optimal home for you.
And, every day I was pregnant with you, I wrote. Every day. Just a little. I wrote to let you know you were, you ARE, my everything. And now, fourteen years later, I still write. Though not nearly as often, on your birthday, Mother's Day, Christmas, I write to you. As much as you drive me crazy. As much as I KNOW life can be hard. I want you to have proof, in black and white, that you are my every BREATH. I love you!!