Dear Baby,

Six years ago, I gave birth to your sister.  It was the most incredible moment of my life, and up until recently, she’s been my top-notch, absolute favorite person in the world.

“But wait … now I’ll be your favorite because I’m your first, and my brother will be your favorite because he’s your last,” interrupted Birdy, who has taken to writing you notes and sealing the envelopes so I can’t peek inside.

Exactly.  She will always be my strange and beautiful Bird and you, you are becoming a little someone who will change our lives again in ways I can’t predict but I know will be awesome and overwhelming.

It’s been over two years that we’ve hoped for you and it’s been a rough go for a dozen reasons, but now, my heart has tried to leave behind that hurt in pursuit of fully investing in hope.  And every time I see your little face on the ultrasound screen or hear the technician say, “Wow, this one loves to dance around,” that hope is renewed.

For now, we wait.  Patiently.  While we wait, my health takes priority in efforts to maintain yours, which is a journey all itself, and I pick through bins of saved baby clothes from the basement, kept in hopes of your someday arrival. (Here’s hoping you like Batman.)

I love you, kiddo.  I have for a long time.  And we can’t wait to meet you and immerse your little self into the never-ending chaos of our family later this summer.

Love always and forever,