Will I love her enough?
Will I love her as much as I love her brother?
Will she be strong-willed and brave and spirited?
Will she be my 'easy one'?
Will we survive the first year?
Will I experience the debilitating depression I felt with Little G?
Will I remember what to do?
Will I take enough pictures of her?
Will she hate me because of her hair?
Will she grow up believing us when we tell her how beautiful she is?
Will she escape the teenage years without too much torment and heartbreak?
Will she know how much we love her?
She's already named. The letters hang on the wall in her nursery. Hers. Little G moved out a couple of weeks ago into his big-boy room and never looked back. We have two months to go until she arrives, hopefully, but she is very much a part of our family already. She dances in my belly at dinner time. She kicks where her big brother kisses me. She rolls around while I sleep. She reacts to the sound of my husband's voice. She's growing in leaps and bounds.
Soon, she will be here.