A Letter To My Unborn Baby

Dear Sprout

I can’t believe the day when we finally get to meet you is so close. At times this pregnancy has felt like it would never end, and at others I wonder where the time has gone. (To be fair, that’s happened once, and was a very fleeting moment. 38 weeks in gestation time is around 4 years in non-gestation time)

Just the other night as I arrived at the hospital for an impromptu checkup, I had a moment of panic when I walked in the doors. 50% of me was kind of hoping the doctor would tell me you were on your way, and the other million % of me was terrified out of my mind. Terrified. A thousand “ohmywordwhatarewedoing” moments flashed through my brain. I’m sure that’s normal though – and I know that the second you are here with me, those fears will all fade (to be replaced with “he’s crying – now what!?”)

I’ve had 38 long weeks to think about you, and imagine this wormy, wriggling yoga thing as an actual human being. There are so many things I’m dying to find out – do you have hair? (the gorgeous heartburn you’ve given me implies yes), will you be as heavy as your read on the ultrasound machine, what colour are your eyes? Will you match the name we’ve chosen for you? Just what kind of a small person will you be?

I have so many dreams and wishes for you, kid. Huge pressure considering you have yet to take your first breath.

I hope that from the moment you come out into this terrifying world you know, above anything, that you are so loved. You were planned and wanted and waited for. Nothing about you being here was accidental.

I hope you go forth into this new life with sincerity, compassion and empathy. I hope that you choose to see the good in everyone, yet aren’t naive when it comes to giving 3rd chances. The majority of this world is good, and I hope you get to experience that good without being taken advantage of.

I hope you inherit your dads Excel logic, sporting skills, directional abilities and eyelashes. I hope you get my wit and sense of humour. You come from a strong line of Kearney’s who are always talking, always thirsty for knowledge and always learning – I pray that you go about life devouring new experiences with voracity.

Travel. I sit here now, and regret always being the one to abide by the rules, never exceeding my leave allocation and always saving instead of jumping on that plane to an exotic destination. Go to places only limited by your imagination – and for gods sake – eat the damn durian! I hope the more you travel the more you realise that Africa is your home, but I can’t be so naive as to think that you will live here forever. It’s hard in this country at the moment, and it may just get harder. Don’t ever stick around for us, but if you do leave, make sure you have enough money to fly us over to wherever you find yourself, so we can visit and cramp your style like all good parents do.

I hope you learn from us, but don’t feel obliged to follow in our footsteps. Go forth and make your own destiny – don’t let anyone’s previous actions hold you back from your future. Don’t let them tell you that you cant – figure that out for yourself.

Read a ton of books, eat more than what you’re familiar with. Vegetables are delicious, truly. Smile at strangers and let people in traffic. Be bigger than you are. Give yourself to others, but don’t be a pushover. Learn to say no when it’s needed.

Try and do new and scary things as often as you can, but don’t be foolish. Follow the rules, live honestly and with integrity. Be a good person and treat everyone well.

Be generous. I’m not talking about buying flashy things, I’m talking about generosity with your time, your willingness to help those in need and to sometimes not look at the price tag. Don’t be frugal. No one likes that person who double dips the tea bag.

The most important thing my parents taught me was how to respect others, ask questions and remember my pleases and my thank-you’s. I hope I instill this in you too.

At the end of the day, my wish for you is to embrace this life you’ve been given, and know that you being here is for a reason. I hope you find that reason and use it to its fullest advantage.

This life is yours for the taking.

I cannot wait to meet you.

Mom

baby rankin

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Baby Rankin Room Reveal

One of the most exciting things about having a baby is knowing that you get to create a space, just for them, in your home.

I have never been one for ‘themes’ and always envisioned a calm, neutral and tranquil space… which mean that the 1980 pink terracotta floors that came with the house had to go! Working in client service, I get paid in smiles (and the occasional pat on the head) so sadly the budget wasn’t there to re-floor the entire house, but we did manage to save enough to put laminate flooring down in the guest bedroom and study (turned nursery).

It made a massive difference!

Floors before

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We inherited some pre-loved furniture – a cot and compactum – which, after serious amounts of elbow grease, sanding, priming and painting look almost brand new.

Being the frugal DIY’er I am I made the mobile and my hubby applied the stickers to the walls.

I sometimes wondered if this room was ever going to come together, and even though there are still some things left to do it’s pretty much complete and I just adore it.

Walking around the room last night to take photos I said to the husband “It still feels like something is missing…” to which he replied “Yes, a baby”

So, minus 1 x baby, I present to you #BabyRankins nursery:

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