Dear Obi,

I’m sorry I haven’t written you as many notes as I wrote your brother. It’s been hard for me to finally accept you’re really coming. Bonding with you – it’s horrible to say out loud – has been a challenge. I’ve been so fearful that I’ll get my hopes up and they’ll be dashed and you won’t ever come.

I know now that I need to tell you what’s been inside the whole time. Whether you actually arrive or you don’t, whether you’re the world’s version of perfect or not, you’re perfect to me.

I have loved you since before you were and will love you for all time. Just like Bubble. Just like Olive. Just like the little one who we called Pip who never really was.

I can’t  wait to meet you in 11 and a bit weeks. But even if my worst fears to come true, I have to admit I know you already.

You sleep in the morning. You dance around 3. You prefer to be up in the evening and night. You have a sweet tooth. You don’t like to be upside down. You like to spread right out, not curl up in a ball.

You’re a little small but you like to make yourself known.

You’re lovely. And perfect. And I hope through your whole life you know that to be true.

Oh, and I really hope you like digging and trucks from a very early age because your brother is very certain that playing garbage trucks with you and going digging is going to awesome.

Love Mommy

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