On Sunday, we told your grandparents about you. I don’t know why I was so nervous. I knew that they would probably be even more excited than your dad and I were, if that’s possible. But my heart beat faster and harder and louder, and I could feel the blood in all my arteries wooshing through as I listened to him on the phone and as I listened to my mom talk about things before telling her the news.
This is early to tell. But we wanted our parents to know. My siblings and your cousins know, too. They’ve been told not to spread the news everywhere for a few more weeks. Because we still could lose you, no matter how hard we pray.
It’s hard keeping you a secret. You are making me very sleepy. My eyes have trouble staying open. I know it’s because my body is just getting used to you being there, but I wish that there was something I could do to keep just a little bit more energy for myself while still giving you enough.
It’s hard to focus on anything. Like writing, school, graduation, and work. Mostly because I’m so tired, but then when I remember again the reason for this exhaustion, I start thinking of you again. And then think of you some more. My focus is you.
I’m trying to stay busy, but it’s hard to be busy when your eyes want to close and stay closed. I really have no choice. I have a job, and school, and another job. But don’t worry. I’m not going to push myself too hard. Making you healthy and strong is priority number one. And this exhaustion is also elation.