You are over 7 months old today. Or, at least, I have known you that long. And I do feel like I know you even though we haven't actually met yet. I know when you wake up and when you like to rest. I know the way your tiny feet like to press against me and remind me that you are there. I know which songs make you dance and wiggle.
But there are still so so many things that I am still waiting, anxiously, to learn about you. Will you have my eyes? Will you have your daddy's nose? What will your personality be like? What will you like to do? What kind of little girl will you become?
The last 7 months seem like a constant stream of waiting. Waiting to find out if that little test was correct. Waiting to hear your heartbeat. Waiting to feel you move. Waiting to find out if I had a son or a daughter. Now, all that's left is just waiting for you, and that is the hardest one of all.
It's possible you could safely be here in less than a month now. I could only have 4 weeks left until I get to count your little fingers and toes and share with the world everything that just you and me had been sharing. That excites me unbelievably, but at the same time, I don't want it to happen. I want to keep you just for me. I don't want to have to share you.
I will do my best to keep you safe. I will love you as hard as I can. You are already loved, and cherished, and I am getting ready to meet you when you are ready.