the day before

Dear Sluiter Boys,

This is it.  The day before our world changes.

I have been trying to soak everything in about all three of you this weekend.  I found a lump in my throat and hot tears in my eyes on more than one occasion.  Not because I was sad, but because I just couldn’t wrap my head or heart around how unbelievably blessed I am.

Eddie you amaze me.

You are a talking machine.  People always say this to me, and I know your voice is a constant in our lives, but this weekend I made sure to really, REALLY listen to you.

You have so many stories, and you are such a great little reporter on what is happening around you.  Everything is interesting and exciting and note-worthy.

My favorite thing this weekend was when we were goofing around and you just fell on me, squeezed, and said, “Mom?  I love you.”

I can’t imagine that I had a life without you in it.

How have you only been here for 32 months?

You are so smart and so big and so strong.

You are going to be an amazing big brother…starting tomorrow.  But really, you have already started.  You are so kind to your unborn brother.

And even though you have mentioned a couple times that you don’t want baby Charlie anymore, I know you are just scared and nervous.

I’ll tell you what, I am too.

Things are going to be different.  And it will be hard for you and me and daddy.  But you and me?  We are a lot alike.  Change is scary and makes us anxious and we cry and lash out.

But Eddie?  We will get through it.  I promise.

Charlie, I can’t believe you are only going to be part of me for less than 24 more hours.

This has been a crazy 39 weeks.

All the puking and reflux and restrictions and everything that was thrown at me this pregnancy is all about to seem like nothing when you are placed in my arms for the first time.

I’m not generally a fan of sharing, but sharing my body with you has been an honor.

While I am ready to have it back–let’s be honest, neither of us are comfy anymore–I will miss your movements that only I know about.  I will miss that connection I feel to you without having to speak.

I’m ready to meet you face to face.  To learn your personality and your face.  To fall in love all over again.

Cortney, I cannot tell you how much you make my heart flip.

Watching you laugh and play with Eddie one minute, and pat your unborn son in my belly the next had me fighting back my sappy mommy tears.

Each time you gave me the hairy eyeball for using the stairs or lifting something, something in me smiled.

Your protectiveness over your family is so attractive and cute.

You’ve put in so much for our team lately.  I know you are tired.  I know you need a break.

I wish I could say that tomorrow means a break for you.  But it doesn’t.

We both know this is the break right now.  Even though it so doesn’t feel like it.

Tomorrow you will be a single parent to a confused little toddler for three days.

Then you will have a wife with a giant abdominal would who will need help on top of that confused toddler.

Oh, and there will be a baby.  Who cries.  And poops.  And needs to eat.  And hasn’t figured out a sleep schedule yet.

Every time I think of how much you give, I want to cry and tell you I am sorry.

But you shake it off.  You tell me we are all worth it.

You tell me you love us.

And you smile.

And your smile gets me every time.

Because your smile is my safe place.  It is home.

So my boys…things are about to change for all of us.

I am soaking you all in how you are right now in this moment because tomorrow will be different.

A wonderful, chaotic, painful, beautiful different.

I love you all more than you will ever imagine,

Mommy (Kate)