Dear Little Embryo,
Last night the digital read out flashed "Pregnant" at us, and your father and I realized for the first time that you were on your way. I had not been watching the dates very closely — but Daddy knows my cycle better than I do, and we checked the calendar on Sunday. Sure enough, I was a bit overdue. Since I typically work like a clock, we both had an inkling that you were in there somewhere. The test last night told us in writing.
I was so happy to see that little "Pregnant" flash. The happiness was followed closely by apprehension — are we ready for you? The answer is a resounding NO right now. We are not ready just yet. The next nine months are going to bring a lot of changes to the Hanes household. Changes for the better, to be sure. And while we have always handled change well in the past, the first brush with the impending change tends to make me edgy. Part of me is anxious for the changes to be done and over, part of me (the old girl scout!) feels completely unprepared for what lies ahead.
I love your father so very much. The idea that we have created an entirely unique person in there somewhere — fills me with such hope for the future. I have been thinking about all the different combinations of Mommy (so strange to use that word. . .) and Daddy that you might have. My book smarts and Daddy's athleticism. My green eyes and Daddy's dark curly hair. My social nature and Daddy's unusual view of the world around him. You will, I fear, be stuck with crooked teeth, and a need for glasses as you get older. You've got a 50% chance of having a good clumsy streak. You've got a 50% chance of being tall for your age. And I'm quite certain you'll be a Neil Diamond fan, and root for the Cardinals. The thing I realize now is that no matter what combination of your father and myself — you will be this amazing blend of us. A physical representation of the love we have for each other. Is that a selfish way of looking at it?
I cannot wait to tell the rest of the family about you. For now, we are keeping you our little secret. We are heading home in September to celebrate the 60th wedding anniversary of your Great Grandparents. I hope that you will be big and strong enough by then so that we can share our news. You are so very lucky in that you will have a large, very loving family. All of your Aunts have been waiting patiently for news of your eventual arrival — I cannot wait to see the looks on their faces when we tell them about you. Your Grandma Jeffries will cry — part of me thinks your Grandpa Jeffries will do the same. Your Grandma Hanes is quite the weeper as well, but I'm not sure how your Grandpa Hanes will react. You will have no shortage of grandparents, aunts, and uncles all clamoring for time alone with you. I think you will be the only baby in the family for a few years yet — your cousins will come along a bit later.
I don't think that the idea of you has sunk in just yet. I'm still trying to get my mind around it all. I want to be honest with you — not paint a rosy picture of pregnancy and parenthood. In the past 24 hours I have been elated, confident, terrified, and nervous. The next nine months are going to be quite a ride. I am glad that we are going to be on this ride together. . .