I dreamt about you last night. You were born and placed on my chest. I looked down at you; those beautiful first moments where a mother meets eyes with the person she has been growing for nine long months. Moments filled with emotion, happiness and relief. Moments where you know how much you love each other, haven’t yet had the chance to experience it.
You were dark, like Wilfred. You had lots of hair and the dazed, shocked look of a brand new newborn baby. I could smell that sweet, familiar newborn scent and I could feel the wrinkles on your skin and the warmth of your body.
The dream was short as my alarm woke me from it – but I loved every second. Because to be honest, I have barely had a chance to think about you in the last 5 months. To imagine you. To look forward to you.
I think my dream was telling me it is time.
With just 17 weeks until you arrive in the world (or thereabouts) and I am allowed to get excited. It is time to believe that you are real. To believe that you are coming to join us.
I’ve bought one outfit since I’ve been growing you – a pink romper covered in rainbows. I have lots more to buy, to wash, and to sort – but it’s felt too early.
I am going to make a start.
A third pregnancy is so different to a first – and in fact, even to a second. I have been running around at 300 miles an hour after your brothers. Squeezing work in between play dates. Trying to nap on the sofa without anyone noticing. Furiously researching the effects of caffeine on unborn children, so desperate for a shot of energy to get me through the day.
I think about you, of course – but I haven’t had time to think for too long. And something holds me back until we get further into the pregnancy, scared to fall in love too soon.
But I do love you.
And that dream last night has filled me with butterflies of pure excitement.
You are coming soon – and it is time to get ready.
And I can’t wait to meet you for real.