Dear Max’s sister
Today is the last day I get to feel your flips and whatever else you’re doing in there (sometimes it feels like you’ve somehow learnt your brother’s karate kicks and punches). Like most moms about to give birth, I’m feeling ecstatic-excited-terrified-nervous-teary, and I part want to stop the clock, and part want to propel it.
But we are ready. Yes, the toys have their batteries, the cot is made up, and the nappies are neatly stacked up on your new compactum. But our readiness goes beyond the nursery and the sterilised feeding equipment and the rest of the stuff that sometimes makes us feel like we’re all prepared. We’re ready to parent you. We’re ready to nurture, support, teach and protect you to the best of our ability and capacity, and all I can do is hope it’s enough, and keep trying to do it better.
This pregnancy has been a gift, and I thank you for choosing us as your parents. You have already healed me in so many ways, and mended a big hole, and given me so much to propel towards in a year that I imagine would have been empty and a little darker without your arrival. This pregnancy came swiftly, and for a number of reasons, I thought it would have been a longer waiting game, and maybe even an endless one.
Before your brother was born, I felt that one of my biggest responsibilities was to raise a decent and kind person, and I think we achieved that. The certificates, marks and accolades mean less to me than a kind person who can get on a world that is often cruel and hard, and I have that exact same hope for you. With your father as your teacher and role model, I cannot imagine that you won’t have a huge heart, a strong sense of left and right, and the ability to take the high road without the need for thanks or acknowledgement.
One of the hardest things as a parent is not being able to protect you from the hurts, bumps and pain that come from all corners. I promise though to try and support you when you hurt, ease it to the best of my ability, and let you feel and experience what you need to through it all. I hope to teach you strength to face up to it, and the “weakness” to feel it. My supply of Hello Kitty plasters (or Spider-Man, if you wish) will always be deep, along with hugs, humour and my “famous” ice cream with melted Cadbury Bubbly chocolate sauce, which your brother loves so much.
I can’t wait to meet you tomorrow. You are already so loved, and we are already so changed by you. In the best way.
x Your Mom
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