Real American Woman, ch. 9

Three years later...

March 25, 2016

Today, I knew you were real. I had thought you were for a week, but I didn’t know for sure. Today, though, I knew. I knew.

I wonder where you are in me, where to lay my hand and give you my warmth. I wonder if you can hear me. I wonder if you have a heartbeat. I wonder how big you are, and what you will look like. I dreamed you will have blue eyes. Blue eyes, and Christmas. And my best guess right now is, you will be here for Christmas.

It finally happened. I still can’t believe you’re real.

March 26, 2016

Today, I learned you don’t like chicken. Or chocolate. But you love milk. Just pure, white milk. White milk, and clams.

Your daddy surprised me. He almost made me cry. Your daddy is hard to know sometimes. He’s good at hiding his emotions and seeming gruff, uninterested, and bored. But today, he almost had me crying. He can’t stop smiling. And he sent me messages on my phone, while I was being drug around Hidden Treasures and Walmart to look at baby stuff with your great aunt Angie, your cousin little Kota (she will be a very good playmate for you, even if she is two years older), and your grandmother. He said, “I’m happier than I thought I’d be. I’m really not as nervous yet. Yet. But I’m happier than I thought I’d be.” You will laugh one day, when I tell you how he called his best friend back home, “I figured I’d start calling now and getting advice on this father thing. I heard it’s pretty tough.” Adam’s reaction was great. Your Uncle Johnnie, Aunt Sarai, and cousin Jesse will be great too; they can’t wait to meet you. Jesse will be a year older than you, but that’s okay. I hope you two can grow up together like I did with mine.

March 27, 2016

Today, I chose your colors. I hope you like them, when you’re old enough to know what they are. It’s a teal blue, a yellow, and a silvery gray. I already bought the squares to make you a quilt and a pillow. And in the center of the quilt is a cut of fabric with words all over it; the word in the center, in bold blue, is ‘Miracle.’ And a miracle you are. I doubt you’ll ever know just how much so.

Also…even more so… Today is Easter. And your birthday will be the week of Christmas. You are my little angel. You are the new life, the beacon of happiness and hope in me, and you will be born the same way that God sent His son to the earth, as a baby for the virgin girl Mary. One day I will tell you these stories, and tell you your own. I pray every day that I can keep you and know you, so that through me you may know God, and through you your daddy and I can become even better.

Happy Easter, my love.

April 3, 2016

It has been a long week. Today was my first concert with you. You have been quiet and still this afternoon; do you like my music? I hope my voice can please you when you are weary.

Your daddy is excited. He’s been reading articles online and texting me about them. He’s been starting conversations about your name; there are a lot of options that we like, some more than others. He’s also started being really protective of me, and caring for me, and spoiling me. He’ll spoil you too. I just know it.

I go meet your doctor on the 12th. I can’t wait to hear your heart beat!

June 9, 2016

Yesterday you turned 100 days old. I am now 14 weeks with you. You get bigger every day. I felt you moving too. You like it when your daddy lays his hand on you. You don’t like it when I lay down on my left side; then you kick me and you move until I have to move over.

You are very strong. I am not. I am weak. I tire easily, and I lost 10 pounds because I stayed so sick for so long. It has only been two weeks that I’m not throwing up anymore. I hope that is all it is. I even go to Dr. Griffin to check on you and make sure you are okay; he laughs at me, The baby is fine. You have a strong heart; it was 155 beats per minute on Monday. You move very well. When I saw you last, three weeks ago, you put on a show for me. You threw your hands over your head and kicked out like a little Russian dancer. You will be my little monkey.

I can’t wait to know what you are. Then you will no longer be just Baby. You will be either Lillian Vonceille or Stephen Asbur. Lily, or Steve. My Lily… My Steve… I love you. We love you.