On many occasions I have imagined your birth and imagined countless versions. I don't know if you're going to run or do it slowly in the hallway; I don't know if you're going to open your eyes in the dark for the first time or you're going to be blinded by operating room lights; I don't know if you're going to be healthy if we're going to tear tears of crying or pain all of us. But I know my mother is willing to go out into the sea. Your father is wishing you to get up awkward and loving in your arms. And that her sister has learned to write her name.

I understand that there is not too much rush to get out. I think there is no better place than the womb for children. In there everything is made to your measure, but out here it will make your existence a little more complicated. Here outside we are convinced that the world is not suitable for the Tikis as it is, and we have created rather ironic inventions. Notice to what extent it is curious: the other day I heard that the wedding of a acquaintance will be child?friendly because they will put in a childcare service. In other words, to go quiet, an unknown person will take care not to bother at the party.

We have almost no choice. You'll soon discover that all of your steps will inevitably be read as an advance of the future adult, and it will be hard for us to understand that you're already a very large creature.

But, listen, I don't want to discourage you, there's oasis around places and from time to time. In addition, I think you'll want to know how your mother's voice is heard across the skin, so well known. He says he is comfortable inside the abdomen and believes that he would still enjoy the sunsets with his dances. But there is little left. In one of these days I will receive a call that I desire and will leave to help you in your welcome.
Participating in your world will be a huge gift. The first time you see your mother in the eye. He'll find that he smells of freshly made Croat. You will be placed in a temperate position on your chest. With the first word you pronounce, you will discover the sound of the letters in this part of the skin. And the mother is going to understand everything for a moment. Then forget what it is. This moment is fleeting.

Anybody knows, maybe when these letters are published, you're breathing on your own. I won't be able to hug mom and you at the same time, like so far. You know what? These hugs I enjoy a lot lately. With the thicker jersey of the winter, I see my mother completely naked. Broad. Very. Awesome Permeable. Experts call psychic transparency to the wave of sensitivity that women experience as pregnancy progresses. They say that the door opens to forgotten memories and many turn their origins around. It is no bad thing that you are betting on that confusion of tents, because it seems that always keeping emotions is a virtue here. In any case, stay quiet: the mother is very transparent. The heart in view of your hope.

Grandpa is waiting for you in the farmhouse to pick up the large beans and plant the tomatoes in a hurry (this year is a little late). Everyone else is at your disposal. So, when you feel ready to embark on the road without fear. I promise you that we will try to be a place for you. We will pick you up generously. What comes next.

Until soon,

Aunt Ana.

P.D. Your sister told me the other day that she'll leave the breast of the mother who feels so much, that she took enough milk and doesn't need it now.