Dear little one,
If you're a girl, your name will be Vanessa. I would name you
Isabelle, but
it really doesn't go with your last name, Bayardelle.
If you're
a boy, I
will name you Jay. I haven't worked out middle names, yet. In
fact, your
father really hasn't agreed with the names I listed above.
I just found out that I was pregnant with you yesterday,
September 25th,
1998. Your Dad already wants to know what kind of sports you
will play. I
want to know that you're OK. Hmmmm. What shall I eat for the
next 9 months.
Take whatever you need from me and make yourself at home. I will
try to make
it comfie for you. I promise not to jump around too much, or do
anything
that might cause you harm. I'll even go easy on the garlic for
you.
While I
have this quiet moment, I want to share some of my thoughts with
you.
I love you. You are a tiny clump of cells right now, but I
love you just
the same. I am looking at in vitro photographs of other
embryos', trying to
figure out how you look and what you are trying to do inside me.
I can't
wait to hold you and look into your eyes for the first time. I
am a
sentimental glob of goo right now, so bear with me. I am just so
grateful
that your father and I are able to have a baby.
"I think I will make a great Mom." Everyone starts out with
this kind
of mentality. Most people don't set out to be bad parents. I
also know I
will make mistakes. I will try not to judge you, mold you into
something
you're not, or criticize you. And I promise to love you. No
matter what.
You will never need to make choices in your life to gain my
approval. I just
want you to be happy yourself and your journey through life. I
hope I don't
smother you in my attempts to protect you from what I think is
wrong in the
world. I can't wait to listen to you and see the world through
your eyes.
In many ways I will be born again once you are born.
Right now as you are growing in my belly, I am carving out my
future. I
don't ever want to be dependent on you for happiness, or only
experience life
through you. I realize that would be unfair to you. I need to
be my own
person; it will make me a better parent, you'll see. I am going
to be a
teacher. An English teacher. I can feel your smile already.
You think I
will write your essays for you and spare you from reading Hamlet.
Actually,
I can't wait to see what you write and what you draw. They will
all be tiny
masterpieces in my eyes, coming from you.
A word about your Dad. He is the kind of guy who gives his
word and
keeps it. You will always be able to count on him. I think it's
safe to
assume that you will love him as much as I do. He might not
write these
'Hallmarkian' sentimental letters, but he loves you just the
same.
I will write to you in another couple of months, once we
know that
you're OK. I will be thinking of you every day. I know the next
three
months will be difficult, but no matter what happens, I will
always love you.
Good luck, little one.
I love you,
Mom
ps. I am revisiting this letter 1 year later. I gave birth to a
wonderful
little girl, Amie Lianne Bayardelle, on June 12th, 1999. She is
perfect
simply because she exists.
(c) Cori Bayardelle All Rights Reserved
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