Our Little Girl

Your dad and I found out just a few days ago that we're going to have a little girl, and I can't imagine being more excited. We had been trying to come up with a boy's name in case you were a boy, but the girl's name we had picked out we were completely sure of from the very beginning: Olivia Anne Robb.

We had picked out your name before you were conceived, maybe a year before you existed. Olivia means "olive tree," which is a symbol of peace. The olive tree also stands for fruitfulness, beauty, and dignity. I can't think of anything more perfect to describe our first child, an amazing daughter.

Tonight your dad and I talked on the phone before bed because he's traveling right now (he's in Nashville this trip). He told me that he couldn't wait to see you, that he wished you were here now. I know what he means. I haven't even held you yet, and I'm already so in love with you. Your father and I love you so much already, and I'm still just five months pregnant!

I was thinking tonight about the different kinds of love in my life. I love our pets, the sweet dogs and silly cats that used to run our household. I love these animals, they're a part of our family. And I love your father more than anyone I've ever known; he's the most amazing, kind, stubborn, loving man I've ever met. I love him so much sometimes that I lay awake at night praying that God would keep him safe and healthy, so that he and I can grow old together.

But I've never felt love like I already feel for you. It's a fiercely protective kind of love, the knowledge that I, one of the laziest people on earth, would literally do anything for you to keep you happy and healthy. there seems like there's so much that could happen to you, I'm kept awake at night thinking about all the different ways I can keep you safe and sound.

Of course, I'm also being kept awake by your little kicks. I've been feeling you kick inside me for a while, but it was only yesterday that I was positively sure that it was you I was feeling, and not just a little gas. (Yes, your mom gets gas. Just wait until you're older, and then I'll really start to embarrass you.) And today, I was having brunch with my parents (your grandpa and grandma), and your kicks were so strong, it was like being gently poked from the inside out. Tonight, I'm writing this entry well into the wee hours because when I'm trying to sleep, you decide it's time to party in there. But I don't mind, because did I mention that I'd do anything for you? Putting up with some karate chops is just the beginning.

Your dad and I made you because we loved each other so incredibly much. Trust me, I wouldn't have gone through the months of intense morning sickness and the ongoing dry heaves for just anyone. I wanted your father's baby, because I think he's going to be the best dad that the world has ever seen. And now that you're on your way, I can't imagine life before you existed. The things that used to keep me up at night were thoughts about my design projects, or family issues, or any number of adult concerns. Now, I lie awake thinking about nursery colors, what color your hair might be, and what you'll wear during your first few months of life. I have officially been consumed by you, and I'm the happiest I've ever been.

You have already brought me and your dad so much joy, and with each passing month we get more excited for your arrival. I can't wait to meet you, baby girl. Welcome to our family.