An Introduction

This blog is a secret for now. I’m the only one who knows about it. I’ll probably tell your dad about it tonight at dinner, but mostly just so I can see him get all uncomfortable and try to change the subject. He probably won’t read it much though, and he certainly won’t tell anybody about it, because he’s not convinced you are really going to happen. You see, your dad is in denial that we’re getting older, we’ve been married nearly a decade, and that each year we go without having a baby equals one more year that we grow increasingly self-absorbed. He’ll come around though, and even if he doesn’t—don’t worry because your mom controls this process entirely.

But I’m not telling anyone else about this blog until you are well underway in the gestation process. At that point I imagine I’ll be shouting from the roof-tops that I’m pregnant, and will likely post about every ache, pain and bloat I feel for the entire 9 months you reside within me, and there’s really no better forum than the internet for that kind of over-sharing. Then at that point I suppose any interested readers—which will likely consist of grandparents, aunts and uncles, and a distant relative or two—can choose to go back to these earlier posts I wrote when you were literally a twinkle in my eye (not your father’s eye, again, because he’s in denial about your pre-existence). But they probably won’t read back this far, considering that by the time this blog goes public, this post might already be two years old.

Anyway, a few preliminaries before we begin this chronicle. First, when I refer to “you,” I know it seems like I’m referring only to my future first child, since I don’t have any kids, and it’s inevitable that my path to motherhood will begin with the oldest child. I really don’t want to be the instigator of any sibling rivalry before there are even any siblings however, so let’s be clear that by “you” I actually mean all of my future children. I hope that one day this blog will be full of stories and pictures of all of you—however many there will be—so that you can all know how important each one of you are to me. And the earliest parts of this blog are here so you can know just how important you were to me even before you were born.

Second, the earliest posts on this blog will likely discuss your father’s resistance to creating you, and how the very notion of your existence sends him into an Ulcerative Colitis tail-spin (I’m sure that by the time you can read this, you are more than familiar with your father’s unfortunate intestinal condition, which makes that last visual all the more entertaining). But you should know that from the very beginning of our relationship—all the way back to our senior year of high school—both of us have spent so much time dreaming and fantasizing about you. Your dad has always wanted to be a dad, and I don’t know anybody else who is as well equipped as him to be one. It’s just that now that you are getting closer, he’s getting cold feet and doesn’t think he’s ready to be all that you need him to be. Even though your dad is usually right about most things, he’s really wrong about that. He’s never been more ready to be your dad.

Finally, I don’t even know for sure when we’ll start trying for your arrival. Right now it is February 2012. I hope to start trying to conceive sometime this November, but any number of things could happen that might move that start date back a little further (like your dad not getting a job-offer in Idaho, for one). But despite any number of things that could go wrong, I anticipate that you will be conceived sometime in 2013. But I say that with cautious optimism because one of my fears is that I’ve spent so much time wishing and planning for your arrival, that in the end I won’t be able to have you at all…which is part of why this blog is private and just for me (and your dad) in the beginning. I just don’t want to jinx anything because I am so, so excited for you.