In 10 weeks.

In 10 weeks, I might meet you.
Or 11, or 12, or 13.
You’ll be this blob of a creature,
with all the creature parts.
A little innocent person
gazing up at the world
barely able to see its splendor
with no wants other than to eat,
sleep, pee, poop, repeat.
Life will be so simple for you
// for a little while //
You won’t fear your mortality.
You won’t care who is President.
You won’t have any worries.
We’ll have each other, and your dad,
together we’ll be a family — 
One that I’m determined to make
filled with love, and laughter, and light.
I know there are many challenges ahead
Many sleepless nights;
Many moments I question everything;
But I’ll have you, looking back at me.
I’ll finally have somewhere to put all of this
unconditional love I have locked inside
for all these years, waiting, patiently, for you.
You who will want more than I can ever give;
without ever knowing how to ask for it — 
A little life who I’ll worry about day and night,
Who will grow to become a person who has
hopes and dreams and fears.
The best I can do is promise
I will try my best…
I will be here for you…
I won’t try to control your life…
I will accept you as you are…
I will hold you when you need to be held…
And give you space when you need to close the door…
I’ll watch you grow up, ever so quickly,
as my own body slips into middle age.

My fitness goals will be set, not to look good in the mirror, but…

…to be able to run through the meadows with you…
…to hike through trees until the ones scoarched by lightening
reveal their barren peaks…
…To dance with you, if you want to dance…
…To sing and play and explore the world with you…

should you want to.

To be a mom that is inherently and admittedly flawed.
But to be exactly who you need me to be.
As best I can. That’s all I can promise.
And I promise you that.