Letter: 5 Weeks, 4 Days Pregnant**

September 19, 2010 

Dear Fake Baby, 

Is it bad that we’re calling you “fake baby”? I’m pretty sure it’s bad. In our defense, however, we are calling you fake baby in reference to one of our favorite TV shows and if you’re anything like us (which, um, I’m assuming you will be), hopefully one day you’ll understand. And forgive us. Ahem.

However, we’re also calling you fake baby because, although you become more real to us with every passing day, we still can’t really believe we’re pregnant. Today I am 5 weeks 4 days pregnant – this is the longest I’ve ever made it in a pregnancy without either miscarrying or spotting heavily, so to think that I might hit the six week mark in a few days is pretty exciting. Also terrifying, but let’s go with exciting for now.

Oh, lovey. I can’t tell you how much I want you to stick around. I don’t pray often, but these days I find myself praying that my body will honor your presence, and that sometime this May, I’ll have the privilege of becoming your mother. Right now I am optimistic – this pregnancy feels different than my last two. My cramps are lighter, my headaches are worse, and in general I just don’t feel as good. I’m dead tired at night, and during the day, and basically at all times ever, and my breasts…just…ugh. Sensitivity doesn’t even begin to describe it. Not only are they freaking enormous, but also, if anything touches them – e.g. a seatbelt, a dog’s paw, a light breeze, or an invisibility cloak – my whole body tenses up. Also, I will never take going down stairs for granted EVER AGAIN.

In spite of my (cautious) optimism, however, there is still a part of me that refuses to allow myself to become too excited. Not because I don’t love you, but because I am so scared of losing you. I’m just trying to bolster myself for another aching disappointment (in case that’s what happens). It’s self-preservation, you see. My doctor will call me tomorrow with the results of last week’s blood work, and I am petrified that she will have bad news for us. Petrified.  I’m also trying not to think about it. This is proving to be almost entirely unsuccessful. SIGH.    

If you do decide to stick around, little one (and I hope that you do!), I hope that I never forget how much I wanted you. I hope that I never forget how I prayed during these early days of pregnancy, and how each wave of nausea was almost a relief, because it meant that my body must be doing something right. I hope that you will always know how much your father and I love you, and I hope that we never, never let you forget what a miracle you are. Because that’s what you are – a miracle. You are a blessing, and a love, and a joy, and you have a mama and a dad who are already bursting at the seams with pride in your existence. You have grandparents and uncles and friends and puppy-sisters* who can’t wait to meet you (even though they don’t know about you yet). You are beloved, and I feel so lucky that you are mine. Hang tight, little one, and know that every step of the way, I’m right here with you.  

I love you,

Mama

*OK, to be honest, you only have one puppy-sister who can’t wait to meet you. The other one is a little bit more, um, ornery. BUT she is wonderful, and I promise that when she sees how much we love you, she’ll love you just as much. Promise.

**And yes, I know EXACTLY how pregnant I am at all times. I may not be able to tell you what month it is (speaking of which, hey October, head's up: YOU ARE NOT MAY), but I can tell you precisely how pregnant I am any day of the week.