Dear baby of mine,
New baby. Baby two? I don't know what to call you yet. As much as I dream about baby girl clothes and velvet shoes and matching bows, I just have a feeling that you are a baby boy. That I am a mother of sons.
There aren't many pictures of me pregnant with your big brother. This is because I travelled for work, all the time, out of state. I didn't stop traveling until I was eight months pregnant.
This time, your father and I want to take pictures. Here is a picture of me today. A self-portrait.
Isn't it amazing that really there are two in this picture, not just one? I didn't take a picture of my belly because you can't be seen there yet, though soon that will change. Your brother and I were playing when I took this picture. Freckles, no lipstick, bangs that need to be trimmed. So filled with awe that life will flourish inside such a small, unseen place. I think today that my abdomen is a garden, and you are my little green shoot.
You are so quiet, so tiny, so different from the last time I was pregnant, when I was either sick or fatigued for those first few months. This time, there has been no physical symptom really, save for a thrilling sensation of just knowing I was pregnant, that a whole new person was being formed in the vessel of me. And that uplifting knowledge that comes for me: He heard my prayer. God is real, and He heard ME.
Just like your brother William, you are my answered prayer. You are my little number two. My tiny secret garden, a forming, glowing gift. Grow, grow, grow, little baby, and I will hold you when you are all done.