I'm going to be honest. Your mama has had a hard week. Emotionally, physically...and I am going to be honest about it.
Last Monday I came down with a cold, and it made me extra weepy. And I began worrying that my nerves, my anxiety, my depression, the family history would affect you. And that scares me. It scares me that I could affect you with my behavior. It scares me that you could have the same issues. But, I remember that the generations have gotten better and better...that with education and self-awareness we learn our own triggers. That I can know enough to keep us okay, to be a good mom to you.
Which brings me to the 2nd fear. The reality of YOU became very real to me that day. I don't know why that day...it just is. Your dad and I spent a lot of time making you happen...and for so long, the goal was pregnancy. We managed that. But you are going to be a real baby in our arms, perhaps sooner than we planned, and that means we are responsible for you, all of you, from now until forever. And that reality is, quite honestly, a little frightening. To know that any mistakes from now on affect YOU, not just me. I can't just brush them off. And I'm not explaining this well. I just got overwhelmed by the sheer weight of you, that you won't be this ... idea. You will be real, and dependent, and ours. And that is, without a doubt, the most powerful responsibility I have ever had. And I really don't want to mess it up. I promise you, my sweet Cricket, that I will do what I can to be the best mom possible to you. Will I make mistakes? Yes. But I will do my best.
And then Friday happened. I made you a promise to be the best mom I can be, and now my body may fail you before you are even old enough to understand. The good news is that you are far enough along that you have a 94% chance of survival NOW, and with each week that increases. To keep my promise I am going to take my medicine, and take it VERY easy - and find someone to help your dad and I get the house ready for you. No arguing with doctors, caution rules the land now. I want you to stay inside as long as possible. Please. And there's a chance my body will hang on for as long as it takes. But there is also the chance it won't. Whenever you arrive, you will be well-cared for. By the nurses, by the doctors, by me, by your dad...you are loved, you are wanted, you are precious.