I started talking to you when you are in my belly.
At first, our talks were the normal mommy/baby conversations.

I can’t wait to see you.
I can’t wait to hold you.
I can’t wait to play and laugh with you.

Those conversations changed at 29 weeks when we went into the hospital. My water was broken, you had barely enough amniotic fluid available and it was leaking every minute.

My stomach was just a tiny bump. I could see the horror in our visitor’s faces as they saw how small I was and that made me even more scared for you. I didn’t know what to do or what would happen. Having a premature baby wasn’t something I understood or had any knowledge on.

We talked all the time, me and you. After the daily monitoring of our heartbeats and my blood pressure and my temperature every few hours. But our conversations were different.

I need you to fight hard, little one.
I need you to wait a little longer until you arrive.
I need you to give me strength.

I needed you just as much as you needed me over the 5 weeks we spent on bedrest. I needed you to help me cope with this situation that I never saw coming. Even though the doctors and the nurses and daddy and all of our family and friends were there for us, it was really just me and you.

Some days, no one could visit. And it was just us. And we would talk. As the weeks went on, and you got a little bigger, and I got a little bigger, our conversations got more joyful.

I need you to keep growing.
I need you to keep getting stronger.
We are going to be okay.
I can’t wait to see what you do with your life. 

I was in awe of how you were fighting.

You weren’t in an ideal womb.
You’d had shots to make your lungs strong and just enough fluid to grow.

We talked about how I would figure out a way to stay at home with you. That work wasn’t important anymore and that I’d do anything I could to take care of you. It was in those conversations that my life changed.

I knew that I would fight, just as hard as you’d been fighting, to be the best mom I could for you. You gave me the strength and the power to make my dreams come true and start my own business AND be a mommy to you and eventually, your brother.

We know this story has a happy ending.

We know that our last conversation before you were born was…

They are inducing me tomorrow.
We made it to 34 weeks!
I will hold you tomorrow. 

And, I did. And you fought for another 3 weeks in the NICU and our conversations went from you inside to my belly, to you behind the glass.

But then you came home.

And we’ve had so many conversations since those days.

You are 6 years old now. And last night, you and I were laying down, getting ready to go to sleep and we started talking. And even though we talk all the time, this was different.

You were so funny and so grown up. You told me about school and we talked about Christmas. I wasn’t talking to a baby anymore. I was talking to a little man. And it made me think about your entry into this world.

And this morning, as you sat on the couch eating your Poptart in your little jammies you said, “I loved talking to you last night, Mommy.”

I should make more time for just you and I to talk.

I should also remember those early conversations a lot more.

I should remember them when you are talking and talking and I am too busy to listen.
I should remember them when you call out for me at 3 am and I’m so tired.
I should remember how lucky I am to have these conversations with you now and watch you grow and thrive and overcome all of your challenges.

You and I are best friends.

Even though I love your daddy and your brother exactly the same as I love you, we have a special little bond that can never be broken.

Thank you for all the conversations we’ve had.
I can’t wait for all the exciting ones to come!!

I love you, my big boy.