Dear Tiny,
Before I met your Dad I used to think abstractly about the man I was going to marry. Of course I had no idea what kind of job my future husband would have (though I guessed professor), I had no idea what nationality he would be (though for a while I thought maybe French) and I didn't know his name. My "husband" existed in template form, someone I would think about when I was a little lonely or in a bad relationship or scared that he wasn't out there.
But then I met Dad. And now I know all of the facts about him, how he's an American technologist named Chris, and much, much more. It's hard for me to remember what it was like before knowing him because he has become the meaning of "husband" to me.
Today I was thinking about how you're still an abstract person to me, as close as we are, touching every moment. You're a baby; you're a boy. I assume you'll be blond, at least for a while. I wonder if you'll grow up to be a technologist like Dad; I wonder if you'll take to French like I did. But I don't really know these things yet.
One day you'll be born and suddenly you won't be abstract anymore. You'll have a name - all your own - and it will be hard for me to remember these days before I knew you, the real you.
Sometimes that really blows my mind...
Love,
Mama
