Carmen wrote this letter with her hand on her pregnant belly and a million dreams in her head. Dear Arden Will you like to read like mummy? Will you be good at math like daddy? Your favourite colour? Your favourite hobby? Scrap-booking or sound engineering? Your taste of music? (Please dont like that doof doof music of daddy ;I) Will you be dark or fair? Shy? Popular? Short or tall? Will you talk a lot like mummy or be quiet like daddy? Will you like to dance? And how on earth am I going to convince you to eat your veggies when both daddy and I dont eat ours? Your favourite food? Athletic or poetic or both? Youll probably like singing... Whose eyes will you have? I hope you have daddys long eye lashes. And will you be grumpy or full of jokes? Writing or drawing? I hope you are born knowing how to style your own hair (and mine) because girl, ma is clueless. Oh Arden I think of these things and it cheers me up, it keeps me going. You keep me going. Even on the worst day, you give me purpose in the best way

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