37 Weeks

Written February 2022

Hello my sweet son,

You’ve been growing in my tummy for 37 weeks now, and I just can’t wait to know you. I’ve been feeling your every twist and turn, and I just can’t wait to hold you. I’ve been dreaming of your tiny face, and I just can’t wait to look into your blinking eyes.

Who are you? Endless possibilities cycle through my mind. But if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re already you. Your circumstances will influence you — and I’ll do everything in my power for them to do so for the better — but you’re already you.

My mind swirls with curiosity. Why did our souls decide to be wound up like this, together? What can I give you, and you me? Why did you choose our family? What space will you fill? What energy will you add? What equilibrium will you bring? And what do you need from us? I believe you already know, and I can’t wait for you to teach me.

I think you’re lucky we’re yours — me, your dad, your big brother. We’re so full of love and have more to give. So full of laughter, just missing yours. And when you look at the situations others are in on this earth, we can count our blessings a million times over. We’ll use all we have to nourish your soul, and together we can only hope to radiate more love.

And more love sure is needed. It’s not an ideal world you are joining, my sweet son. I feel uncomfortably guilty bringing you here, and struggle to justify the choice. Two years into the COVID-19 pandemic. A warming planet that is beyond immediate repair. Horrendous inequality. An ideologically divided country. A culture glued to endless feeds of useless, mind-numbing, content. I could go on…

Maybe it’s selfish to bring you here. (Though I believe you’re choosing to come, too.) Maybe it’s an act of optimism, of belief that humanity can and will rise to this occasion as we have in every generation prior. The historical lens is helpful, somehow — knowing this isn’t the first time parents have felt unsure about the world around them, yet still chosen to add new life. You and I are just the current knot on a long, long thread…

I desperately hope it’s not too hard for you and your brother. That you’re able to witness beauty, be part of positive change. That you don’t turn around and say: knowing what you knew, how could you bring us here? I silently pray your life won’t be filled with my apologies as we watch the world burn.

My baby. There you are. Dancing to my music as I write. I can already tell we’re going to have something sweet and cozy and special, you and I.

We’ve been growing together for nine months, our bodies in perfect harmony. And we have quite an act ahead of us in these next few weeks, working together to bring you earth-side. The feat of a lifetime for us both.

But after that, I’ve got you, little one. I’ll hold you close and make sure you’re okay. I’ll feed you and keep you warm. I’ll sing to you and dance with you and help you sleep soundly. I’ll play with you and read with you and teach you about the wonderful world around you. I’ll show you nothing but love, and help you grow into the person you were meant to be. I promise.

Until then, get your rest and grow grow grow. Enjoy the cozy darkness, the steady beating of my heart, the muffled sounds of me, your dad and your brother singing and chatting as we await your arrival. And we really can’t wait.

I already love you endlessly, sweet boy. I’ll see you soon.

All my love forever,
Mama

Thank you for being here.

❤︎ Leora

Read previous Hi Let’s Life letters here

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