When I was pregnant the first time and even the second time…and even the third time…I wrote letters to my babies.

It was after my miscarriage that it even crossed my mind
that this person to whom I’m writing may never see what I’m writing.
That hurt.

But when I got pregnant a fourth time, I hesitantly decided that I would write to him/her.

I’m so glad I did.

I now have letters to each of my children, including the one who will never read it.
Each letter is full of hopes and dreams, and when I read them I remember the excitement of each new baby.

It is a letter between me and my child;
a letter that you will never see;
a letter that is only for him or her.

And I’m glad that I have that special look into my life at that moment.
And I’m glad that I’ll be able to share that with them one day.
To let them know that I loved them before they were even born.
That I dreamed dreams of them and for them before they could hear or see or breathe.

And I hope they will know how much I wanted them, craved them, needed them in my life.

They are everything I have ever dreamed of and more.

I dreamed the other night that Eli was playing with a baby girl.
I hope that was my little girl.
I hope this is a girl.
(Even if it is a boy, I will be happy.
But I’m pretty sure we’re all dreaming about pink.)

Now I’ve got a letter to go write…