In utero

Dear baby,

I have known you were coming for a while now--since the day Lexi was born. Perhaps the intervening 20 months prepared my heart to long for you even though the road to get you here is rather treacherous. Today I heard your heart beating. That soft, tiny "whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh" brought such comfort. You're just fine, squirming around in your ocean cocoon. The nurse said your heart sounded surprisingly strong for your age. I hope that is always true.

Tomorrow a different nurse will come to the house and hook me up to a medicine pump. It's an intermediate measure--something to try before a home IV. Tonight someone will deliver all of the Zofran syringes I will need, and tomorrow I'll receive training on how to take care of myself. Hopefully this will help me better manage as a wife and mother. The kids have dropped out of their music classes and we are hiring someone to clean the house once a week. You're already making waves, little baby, and you're barely an inch long!

On the hard days I often read a poem that reminds me what important things we have to accomplish together. I nearly have its beautiful lines memorized.

Seventh Child
by Sharon Price Anderson

Sarah would laugh
to think that I feel old
yet understand better than I
the longing which gives you life
and overcomes the logic
that it has been too long
and six is sufficient
for seed as dust and stars.
Is it your desire
to come to earth
that makes me willing
to give you birth
and further fulfill God's promise?
What blessing will you bring?
What mission will be yours
in this Saturday of time,
you who are Sarah's increase
as well as mine?
Could I have kept completely
my mortal purpose and
consecration's covenant
without you?
Sarah knew much of
altars aging,
offspring waiting,
missions and promises.
Now as we grow and wait,
she would teach us also faith

***

Take care, little baby. See you in August.

Love,

mama