Original Date: March 29

Dear Son,

It is 3:30 am, and again I am up waiting for your arrival. With every passing day, you make more aware your presence inside me. You are close now - have settled down, found your position - don't move near as much . . . but I feel you - your spirit living in me, as strong as my own. I pace the floors at this time each night, a bit against doctors orders - but you . . . you spring me to my feet, up and down the hall - into the room I have took pains to make so very perfect for you . . . touching your clothes, sitting in the rocker where you will soon nurse, running my little swollen fingers the length of your crib . . . then to the refrigerator for ice cold milk (something I destested before you my dear, what an influence already you have).

You and I . . . we've come so far these nine months. How I've grown, changed . . . how you've grown, changed.

I never thought I would have you. Lost hope for a time - heard their words as I sat in cold rooms wearing stiff gowns - as one after another they examined me, and searched for the right words to explain . . . "cancer" . . . "so young" . . . "scar tissue" . . . "dont worry - there are always alternatives" . . . "we hate to rule out completely your chances of concieving naturally . . . but . . ."

I didn't want "alternatives". I wanted to carry you - take all the pain and the glory - the satisfaction of giving you life. And you must have known - for to everyones surprise and amazement, most of all mine, you've chosen me.

How I longed for you, prayed for you . . . cried out in my darkest hours and wondered why not. . .

You heard me. Knew I needed you.

I thought I knew everything before you - I knew nothing. And am certain once I see your face - I will truly realize I knew even less than that.