First of all, I am so, so sorry for all of the stress hormones. I hope they do not shape your tiny, developing brain into something that only soaks in sadness once you are born.
You are wanted; you are loved. All of our kids were (are) wanted and loved deeply, but judging from the amount of crying I have been doing during this pregnancy with you, one could easily be forgiven for thinking it's not so.
I am worried, and probably depressed. Depression and anxiety don't have to have a reason, but there are many. For starters, what if your brothers and sister don't feel like I care about them anymore once you arrive? What if I can't be my best mom self to you? Your dad is, blessedly, gainfully employed in a field he loves. But for twelve hours a weekday, it is all me as far as parenting goes. So I am frankly and panic-strickenly terrified that I won't be able to do what I was once so confident I could do--smile into your face, and cherish you and the three kids who came before you to the full extent that you deserve it.
That list of affirmations in the bathroom--I am writing and reading and re-reading them for me and you.
One thing you could do, if you are so inclined, is to happily comply with swaddling and breastfeeding (or bottle-feeding) and sleeping. Ideally you would do these things in perfect tandem with your siblings' needs. And in perfect harmonic oscillation with the times the Helper Lady is going to be around in the afternoons. But in the mornings, when we drop off James and Will and Elise and whomever we are carpooling with this fall, perhaps you could ramp up your hunger, thirst, diapering needs, and needs for stimulation within the time period between 8:20 am and noon, wherein I will shotgun a Red Bull and deftly exceed your wildest baby dreams.
Also, could you please not have anisometropic amblyopia that requires glasses and occlusion therapy in your infancy? The pediatric opthalmologist down in the valley who treats James and Elise wants to see you when you are a newborn to determine whether you'll need infant glasses and/or a patch over one of your eyes. Oh my God. I know it's probably entirely my fault, anyway, were you to have the condition. But maybe you can, like, wait to develop it until you are about twelve months old, and then we could neatly discover it at one of your siblings' regularly scheduled checkups. That way, you may be old enough to be bribed against clawing at your own face to remove any foreign devices.
Furthermore, maybe you could figure out how to induce lactation in your dad with your infinite cuteness. Yes, that would be very helpful.
That's all for now.