A Letter to My Unborn Son, Flashback to 2000

Like Peter Gabriel, I'm digging in the dirt. Soul searching my old journals for new book inspiration. "I'm digging in the dirt. Stay with me, I need support ..." as the song says.

In diving into the deep end of a decade of journals, I stumbled across a letter to my unborn son. He is first of my three children. Here it is, as written in my journal July 3, 2000. I think I used every maternal cliche possible. Still, I'm quite attached to it:

Dear little baby,

I want to tell you warm in my changing belly that you are a true gift, a blessing. You've chosen me as your mother, and your daddy you've chosen too.

I'm taking the best care of you that I possibly can. Resting every day and giving you the healthiest foods. I'm sticking to my decision, which I believe was decided long before I was even born.

What do you feel as you grow? Your heart beats so strong and loud. I've heard it three times now and I'm already in love with you. Your heart gives me life and hope.

I know we'll make it together, little one. We're going to be just fine.

Thank you for coming into our lives. Pure love.

Love,
Your Mommy
xxoo

Journal entry, July 9, 2000

I can talk of nothing else. This baby consumes me. My body is doing the work of a mother.

This is my fourth week at home on bed rest. The hours on my back and off my legs scatter like sprinkled pepper. The oil coating my hair gives it a new sheen that doesn't smell as fresh as it looks.

Cat food, the hard, crunchy kind, remains spilled across the tiny strip of linoleum that makes up our kitchen floor. The cat tore a hole in the bag, which I did not know when I lifted it from the counter to feed him.

Overall, our apartment is out of hand dirty. Most of our energy to do such things as clean, pay bills or remove old food from the fridge is sapped by our new fears, arguments and responsibilities.

Physically, my body is taking on new duties, duties of motherhood. And this effects me emotionally as well. I feel insane.