Lately, I've become so immersed in being pregnant that I tend to forget that I'm not just growing a belly, I'm growing a baby that will grow into an actual person. Perhaps I don't think of this often because it's just too big of a thought. I am only spending a few months carrying her around with me everyday, everywhere and one day this will seem to be an insignificant portion of time compared with the rest of her life.
She will not even consider our time together now as significant enough reason to conform her opinions on politics, food or general coolness to mine. And I don't want her to - but be kind enough not to mention it in that later moment please. She will, God-willling, grow to be someone who is other than me. That seems impossible right now as we share so much together: oxygen, food, pants.
There is so much I hope for her, so much that I would want her to know and be. But we have our day together now. We have Christmas goodies to finish in the kitchen, Christmas music and snow falling outside.