To My Little Man in the Last Month of Pregnancy,

We’ve made it to 37 weeks together. It has been a long road to get here, huh? It hasn’t been an easy road either. We’ve had hurdles in each trimester and it has made it hard for me to enjoy this time with you. You are my rainbow baby boy, the rainbow after the storm, but some days during this pregnancy, I feel like the storm was still raging.

The first trimester was plagued with fear of miscarriage. It had taken three months after a miscarriage to conceive you, buddy. I remember your dad and I looking at the two little lines and I remember crying out of happiness. That happiness was short-lived as I started bleeding. I was convinced I was miscarrying. We waited until the doctor’s appointment. It was in the middle of the pandemic so I had to go in alone. We found out that you were a fighter and still hanging out in there, growing. We breathed a sigh of relief. But that was short-lived. A couple of days later, I was bleeding again. I was terrified every day of that trimester. Every time I went to the bathroom, I checked my underwear for blood. I held my breath and doubted that I would carry you to full term.

But then, we made it to the second trimester. I started to grow a bond with you. I found out that you were a boy and I started to feel you kick. You were becoming more real to me and I was starting to relax. We were finally going to get our family. But then, we found out that there was a chance you had a congenital heart defect. I was worried all over again about you. I was focused so much on the anxiety that it was hard to enjoy being pregnant with you. But then, we found out that the defect was shrinking and was no longer an issue as long as you don’t have a murmur at birth.

Then, it was the third trimester, this trimester. Everything was going great. But then your great-grandfather started declining. I so desperately wanted him to hang on so that you two could meet. I dreamt that you both would share a birthday. All you would have to do is come one day before your due date. But your great-grandfather wanted to meet you before any of us could. I hope that you two are enjoying yourselves while I anxiously wait for you to make your Earthside debut. I’m sorry that a lot of your last trimester with me has been plagued with that grief, but I would have loved to get a picture of you two together and it’s difficult to come to terms with the fact that your great-grandfather is no longer here.

I am sorry that your nine months with me weren’t the best, but I promise that I will make that up to you when you are born. I do love you and I can’t wait to hold you. It just took me a little longer to allow myself to love you without worrying that I would lose you. Life is so fragile and unpredictable. I think that this past year in a pandemic has proven that. But you, little man, you have proven how strong you are against all odds. You survived two bleeds and shrank your defect and you are still sassy as ever, throwing dance parties in the middle of the night while I’m trying to sleep. I hope you’ll forgive me for the stressful, emotional roller coaster we have had these nine months and I can’t wait to hold you in a few weeks.

Love,

Mommy