Dear Future Baby,
We haven’t met yet, in fact in this very moment you only exist in my dreams, but you and I have so many things in common. One day I will be able to tell you how hard we tried to make you, how long the journey was, and how thankful I am that you are mine. I don’t know what you look like, but I hope you have my olive skin and not the fair skin of your Dad. I don’t know what your personality will be like, but your Dad hopes you have his easy going nature over my impatient stubbornness. What I do know my little Love, is that you and I already have so much in common. Because as it turns out, fertility treatment has often made me act like an irrational toddler.
I know that when I tell your Dad that you had a tantrum at the supermarket and I was mortified because everyone was staring at me, he will remind me of that time through our second cycle of fertility treatment when I lost my shit at him in IKEA and stormed off because he said I was taking too long picking between two wine glasses, that looked exactly the same.
I know that when you are finally in my arms and you are screaming your cute little head off at 3am and neither of us can work out why, and you are getting more and more frustrated with me because I don’t know what you need, I will hold you, sing to you, do whatever I need to do to make you feel calm because I will remember that it wasn’t that long ago I also lay on the floor crying and screaming out of pure frustration and nothing could settle me but love. And your Dad will be lying there thinking of all the times I woke him at 3am to tell him that I couldn’t sleep because I was worried I wouldn’t meet you one day, and I made him stay awake until I fell back asleep.
When you are having a tantrum and throwing your toys at my head and I tell your Dad that if you do it one more time I might just throw them back he will casually say with a smirk on his face ‘hey remember that time you chased me around the house waving your injection pen at me because you were frustrated for no good reason’.
When people are “gooing” and “gaahing” over you when we are out and about and wanting to hold and play with you, and you want nothing to do with them, I will remember back to when I wanted nothing to do with other people either. Back to when I refused to get dressed and leave the house because I was so tired, emotional and over everyone, that all I wanted was to be home and in my own company.