I believe in the child growing in my womb. In fact, she may be the first thing I’ve truly believed in in all my twenty-six years. When my fiancee Scott and I found out we were pregnant, we hardly skipped a beat. I think it was something we had been expecting would “catch us by surprise” as it were, since we started dating nearly four years ago. Having a child was never something we wanted to plan, after all. We figured when the child was ready to come into this world, he or she would let us know.
Now that I’m pregnant, I love to feel her grow and kick. I love to hold my belly as if it’s her I’m holding. Being pregnant has made me finally understand what it means for someone to have the will to live. No matter what I do, or how stressed out I get, or angry, or sad (and believe me this happens when a woman’s hormones are a ragin’), she hangs tight and keeps on taking what she needs from me and developing.
I have come to believe in her purity. Not only will she be the purist thing with which I will ever come in contact, but her purity will radiate off her and hopefully rub off a bit on me and her father. For that matter, I hope it rubs off a bit on everyone she meets. I believe she will make me remember what it is to be a child; to look at everything with new and hopeful eyes. By teaching her, I will re-teach myself. I will re-learn my ABCs, multiplication tables, and how to swim and ride a bike.
I believe in my promise to respect her; to let her grow and learn on her own terms. By keeping that promise, I will enable us to learn from each other. I believe she will renew my faith in life and in myself. I love her so much already that I almost cannot imagine loving her any more, but I know that when I hold her for the first time, I’ll no longer be able to define the word “love”. It will no longer be a feeling that can be described by any word. She’s my daughter. She is the product of the deep love I share with Scott. She will complete our family.
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