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Dreaming of You
Runner-up in the "Dear Baby" Essay Contest
By Brandi Iannotta
Dear Baby,
How can I even begin to start this letter? I have wanted you for as long as I could remember; when other little girls wanted to grow up and be police officers or stewardesses I always said I wanted to be a mommy. And now here I am, carrying you, wondering all of those things new moms wonder. Who will you look like? Will you have my green eyes or your Daddy's beautiful blue ones? What will you achieve when you grow up? Will you be healthy? I can't believe that even as I sit here writing this you are growing, getting bigger and bigger, stretching your little arms and legs and doing everything you can to get yourself ready for our world. I am so anxious to meet you and introduce you to your family.
Your daddy is so excited his eyes light up every time we talk about you. And your grandparents are going to spoil you so much, the first grandbaby. I worry so much about you, that you're getting all the things you need to grow, that something is going to happen and I might lose you. I was walking with your great-grandmother the other day and I was talking about you and how I couldn't wait for you to be born so that I could stop worrying about you. Then a thought struck me: I will always worry about you, when you're 6 and headed out the door to your first day of school, when you're 16 going on your first date or 26 and you have children of your own. I guess that's a mother's lot in life, to worry about her children.
I've always said I wouldn't be one of those silly parents who sneak into their children's bedrooms and stare at the tiny rise and fall of their chests just to make sure they are still breathing. Now I confess I will always sneak into your room to stare at you. They don't do it because they need the reassurance that their children are still alive; they do it so that they can be reassured that this miracle is still here, that they weren't dreaming it all.
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