Dear Henry,

 

All of a sudden, it got cold here in Brooklyn. Our shorts have been packed away for a while, but now we have broken out our winter coats, hats, scarves, and gloves.

 

Last time it was this cold, I was pregnant with your brother Ethan. I tried to get out every day both to keep Jacob and myself sane and to stay healthy in the pregnancy, tired as I was. Feeling the beginnings of the harsh winter cold brings me back to that time. It seems far away in a sense, but then so did this coming winter, once I knew it meant I would meet you.

 

It feels like we have been waiting forever. I know that’s an exaggeration, but it’s been a long year. There’s been a lot of heartbreak, a lot of tears shed. Recently, though, there’s been a lot of good news: engagements, people finding jobs, a close friend learning she is not at all as sick as the doctors suspected. The holidays are almost here, and I am looking forward to them more than I expected. The closer we are to Thanksgiving, Christmas, the New Year, the closer we are to you.

 

This week I have another sonogram scheduled. I can’t wait to see you. I think you are still upside-down (which, of course, means that you’re kind of right-side-up), but I’m not at all sure. I feel you move all the time. Sometimes it’s painful, but it means you’re all right. That means the world to me.

 

I am thirty-two weeks pregnant with you. I know that your daddy and I—and even Jacob—already love you in a very special way, a way that’s just for you. Every day I think about holding you, nursing you, even being up in the middle of the night with you (although I try not to focus too much on the exhaustion that comes along with the last part). Today I was looking at pictures of Jacob’s first weeks and remembering what a crazy wonderful thing it is to be in the presence of a newborn. You will be warm and squirmy and beautiful when we see you in person. You will sleep a lot and we’ll get to watch your peacefulness, the grace of God living and breathing in our arms.

 

I am so grateful for you already, so grateful to be your mom. I can’t wait to get to know the fascinating, important, beautiful person I already know—and always will know—you are.

 

With all my love,
Mom