Dear "Elizabeth Taylor,"

Your room is almost ready. We had a shower in your honor and I can't believe how generous our family has been. It absolutely astounds me at the help we've received just welcoming you into the world. You are a lucky girl to have such a group of relatives so excited about you. I know I am humbled.

The room is a bit old-fashioned, and it's lovely. And classic. Quilts from ancestors hanging near your bed, slate and country blues, cream and beige colors, and sage greens, and furniture from both sides of the family. I feel comfortable in there and hope you do too.

I had two terribly vivid dreams regarding you this past week. Both times you were lost and I couldn't get you back - the first time a woman swept you away and I spent the entire night seeking her out so I could hold you. The second dream they wouldn't let me near you because you were born prematurely. Both times I saw you - you were the only distinct face I remember in the bunch - and you had jet black hair and the prettiest face I could imagine. I suppose I'm dreaming anxiously of you because the date is getting closer - just ten weeks away on Monday! - and my brain is subconsciously telling me to worry. Still, it must be subconscious because on the surface, I'm only excited. I can't wait to meet the person who shape-shifts in my belly and comes from a love between Taylor and I that I could never put into words.

Your cousin was born a couple weeks ago: Felix. You will have two older boys on your dad's side to watch over you, two older boy cousins on my side that will be a year and a half older, and a boy cousin born just a month before you and a little girlie a month after. That is quite a load of cousins. (That doesn't even include Alaina and Olivia who are also cousins, at 11 and almost 6 years old.) And don't forget your beautiful half-sister Elsa, who will teach you everything you need to know about being a little lady Joiner.

We're getting ready on our end, so you keep growing on yours. We can't wait to meet you when it's time.

Love,

Cabbage