Dear Daniel,
I'm sitting here in the doctor's waiting room, my rounded stomach causing me to sit more sideways than straight, and I'm missing you like crazy. If I look up, there's a television, but it's turned to some medical station featuring a program about heartburn. I've a magazine in my lap - wait! I don't have a lap - I've a magazine in my hands, but I'm not reading it. Instead, I'm clandestinely perusing the room and studying all the other expectant mothers.
I feel so alone.
Across from me there's a young pregnant woman, a girl really, who already has a toddler. For the last five minutes, all I've heard is "Don't stray too far, Angel. Be careful, Angel. Angel, come to Mommy."
I'll be hearing the term angel all day.
I, of course, will be thinking about my own angel: you.
Oh, Daniel, why are you so far away? Please be careful. Please come home to me.
A few fathers have accompanied their pregnant wives. Some look scared; some look bored; a few look excited. One expectant father is busy talking to his unborn child. I can hear him telling the soon-to-be-born, "I'll take good care of you. Now, be nice to your mother and get off her kidney."
You'd be excited if you were here.
I'm finally in the examination room. Oh, Daniel, Dr. Welby says everything is just fine. Oh, and he wants me to eat more. Imagine a doctor telling me to eat more. I'm supposed to gain a pound a day. And, here's the best part. The doctor handed me his fetoscope, and I got to listen to Seth's heart.
Thump, thump, thump.
God's miracle and more. While I was listening, my necklace - the chain holding the five golden rings you gave me on our fifth date - slipped down until the rings were right over Seth's heart. I started crying, Daniel, crying, right there in the doctor's office.
It was like you were listening to Seth's heartbeat too.
And, I no longer felt alone.
All my love and prayers,
Joy
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