Love You Forever

When I was little, my mother often (and when I say often, I actually mean every night as it was one of my favorites) read me Love You Forever.  I have fond memories of her reading to me, rocking me in her arms and singing the same song the mother in the book sang to her son.  I remember giggling at the part when the mother would climb a ladder into the son's room as an adult. 

I am superstitious to a point, so I waited until I entered the second trimester to purchase anything for Baby.  The day I was officially out of the first trimester, Boyfriend and I went out and bought two items, a small toy (that Shrek immediately chewed up) and this book.  I envisioned reading this book to my own child, rocking and singing.  At some point in the pregnancy, Boyfriend decided to read the book to my swollen belly.

It was such a sweet picturesque moment, me lying in our bed, Boyfriend and Shrek were both lying next to my belly as I laid on the bed, Baby was kicking and twisting in response to her father's voice.  I was filled with happiness and was giggling at Boyfriend's version of the song.  Then he started to read the last few pages.

If you haven't read the book before, I'm going to spoil it for you; it implies that the mother dies.  Imagine me, 8 months pregnant, having this incredibly sweet moment with my budding family, reading a book about a mother dying.  I start crying and laughing, crying because it was just so darn depressing, laughing because only my mother would love reading me a book about death.  I don't know how as a child I didn't pick up on the death aspect, I suppose because of the innocence only a child has.

All the same though, I still plan on continuing the tradition of reading Love You Forever to Baby.  I mean, it can't be any more morbid than the nursery rhymes that she will sing on the playground.