Kids,
Although I don't know your names, when you will arrive, what you are meant to grow up and become, if you'll hate black olives as much as your dad does or if you'll inherit my blue eyes, but we've thought about you. However, your dad and I know a loving home exists with bedrooms for you. We'll be sure to move all the spare furniture out for your crib and rocking chair and story books. We know you will arrive in such a perfect moment of our lives that could only have been orchestrated by God.
Until then, we will write to you. Your dad and I already have 8 years worth of stories to share. Hopefully, one day when you're older, maybe 12, 15, or even 25 years old, which just happens to be how old I am while writing this note, you'll read this collection of stories and appreciate the history and love they've captured. If I can tear your dad away from his man cave upstairs, he'll write to you as well. I'll have to warn you about that man room in later posts with a few pointers for guilting him into making it your playroom. ;-)
Love,
Mom
