I’ve decided to call you Key Lime for now. I figure it is better than JG, the acronym my mom called me when I was still in her tummy. The story says that my dad didn’t want to believe she was pregnant and said that I was Just Gas. It used to be a cute story but the gas is real and constant, along with the nausea, fatigue, and so many other things. I’ll cut that train of thought off now and remind myself that you’re worth it.
I can’t call you ‘her’ because people get all excited and dancy thinking I already know. In reality, I’m 11 weeks 4 days and I won’t know until at least my August appointment. My What to Expect app says that you’re growing your boy or girl parts this week, but nothing will show for a while and I don’t get to have another sonogram until August anyways.
I was thinking the other night about all of the people you won’t get to know, that won’t get to know you. Even now tears come to my eyes, which would have even before the rising hormones just maybe not as fast. My mom, my brother, my Grampa. I think of them for a good minute before remembering I have to include my Gramma too. So often I think to call her and update her on you, but then I remember that she’s gone too. I haven’t fully accepted that yet.
I want you to know how wonderful they were. Jeremy says that we can tell you about them, talk about them, make sure you know… but that’s not enough. You won’t have memories. I know how it goes. My mom missed her twin brother, talked about him, made sure I knew who he was. I knew his importance from her eyes, cared about him because of how she felt, visited his grave in place of hers. It’s not the same. It’s not enough.
I want them to be able to hold you and experience you. I want to be able to share you with them. I have a home video of when I was born. My Grampa held me in his arms and kept repeating “My little chickadee, chickadee.” That one phrase is the only way I can still hear his voice in my mind. I imagine him holding you, rocking you, calling you his little key lime. He loved key limes.
So I let this out, feel this, mourn for those lost connections. And then I try to be thankful and focus on what I can do. My dad and stepmom are still alive. I’m going to make sure that you know them. You’ll be the first of my dad’s grandchildren that he’ll get to know. You both deserve that. Jeremy has been lucky. He has both parents, all his grandparents, and a few of his great grandparents. You will have them. They will hold you and rock you. They will Skype or Facetime with you from Florida in between visits. They will play with you. They will come up with their own nicknames for you.
We will all love you.