I’ve been reading my old journals 

Looking up to stare out at the crepe myrtles 

I’m thinking about how I was raised 

In the town I still live in 

My whole life has been lived in a 5 mile radius 

It seems like there was a lack of praise 

A missing celebration 

As I turn the pages 

There’s a slight sense of deflation

Like knowing cancer has metastasized 

Or that for one to be born something else dies 

I feel like a bridge 

I bought you some onesies today at the thrift store

Some were just 55 cents 

I only needed 10 but it was hard to pick 

I thought about how little you are – at the moment

How little we all begin 

And how I can’t wait to hold you 

And like the crepe myrtles drying out at the end of summer, that too will end

Don’t let people call you little 

Ah, that’s another thing I have to watch 

My words

More importantly, my heart

So that yours isn’t botched 

Oh, to see you bloom

For now, from an ultrasound and some subtle flutters inside my womb 

I’m gonna save you some energy for when you need me to drive you to your friends 

And sure, we can eat some ice cream on the weekends 

I’ll do my best to help you with math and to not get angry

If nothing else, we’ll laugh and I’ll teach you to spell even if it pains me 

I’ll try to always be cheerful 

Know you don’t have to be fearful 

God will provide – even if it’s through me 

And we can go to the movies 

I’ll watch you play sports 

And won’t criticize your shorts

Even when you’re 16 

We’ll watch the storm roll in from the front porch 

I’ll do my best for you

But please have grace 

Know that others can’t make  you feel a certain way

Know that sticks can look like snakes 

Study the genuine to recognize the fakes

You’re as you should be 

You’re like my very own crepe myrtle 

And the beautiful flowers on my journal 

Keep growing, learning, fluttering steady 

I love you, kid

And you’re celebrated daily, already