Dear Unborn Children,
A few days ago on the 1095th day of your father and I knowing each other, I began telling you the story of how it all started. I had to make it short as I didn’t want to bore you with all those tiny details. Apparently, your curiosity has gotten the best of you as well as other aunties and uncles who have read my letters to you behind your back. (Adults these days, I tell ya!)
I digress.
See, when your father and I met, I didn’t think we would go beyond being friends. On the surface, he fit the perfect picture of a player. I wasn’t about to get my heart played and dumped like used diaper. I had to thread carefully.

This card was among surprise gifts he gave me on our first Valentine’s Day together. Inside, he referred to me as his Future Mrs. Man, dude was seeing way into the future already.
Even as I moved with caution, your father was so intriguing: our conversations were really good. We could go for hours just chatting about nothing and anything. Hardly an hour went by without some kind of communication. (I’m sure he’ll remember when