Baby 2, Letter 6

Dear Baby,

Today is the day.  As of right now, you're not here.  In a few hours, you will be. Right now I'm technically a mother of one.  Soon, I'm a mother of two. It's crazy.

I can't explain what I'm feeling.  I'm not scared or even nervous.  I'm simply full of anticipation for meeting you and awe at the process we've undergone for the last nine, er, ten months.  I've never been so ready for anything, except maybe the birth of your brother.  I was ready for that, too.

I've instructed my work not to call me for at least two weeks so I can sit, uninterrupted and open-mouthed and stare at you.  I've stocked the freezer and cabinets so I don't have to worry about what to eat, and I've stashed comfy places for you to rest all over the house so you never have to be out of arm's  reach.

So many people have been waiting with bated breath for you.  Our children are the luckiest little people alive to have such a network of  family and friends who care honestly and deeply for them - you will never be without plenty of supporters.  Also, that means someone will always be watching you. So, just so you know - for high school.

I cannot wait to dress you up like a dolly and tote you around and gaggingly show you off to anyone who will look.  Your brother is already the most-photographed child in Lawrence, but just you wait.  He never had a pink tutu.

6 hours and counting until we meet.  Of course, I feel like I already know everything about you. We've been traveling together for a long time and it will be strange not to tote you with me every step of my day.

See you on the other side, Lily.

I love you more than you will ever know.

Always,
Mama

Johnny Letter #19

Dear Johnny,

I've been trying to prepare you for the arrival of your baby sister, but so far my efforts seem to be a failure.  I've yet to have you cry or gnash your teeth.  You haven't yet told me you don't want the baby to come to our house and you haven't tried to destroy her room or any of the baby things that litter the rooms of our house.  Johnny, this is not normal.  You are not supposed to be HAPPY about getting a new baby.  You are supposed to be CONFUSED and ANGRY and VENGEFUL. At least, this is what I read and what the experts tell me. You should feel like a jealous wife whose husband has announced he's bringing home a concubine.

Despite my efforts, you continue to ask to see my tummy and pat the baby inside it.  You look at the bassinet and say "That's Lily's?" and beam with pride when people ask if you're going to be a big brother.  You seem downright excited about the prospect of meeting our new addition.  You're thrilled to be getting a short vacation to Grammy's house while I am in the hospital and so far not at all distressed that you're getting kicked out of the nest for awhile to make room for baby.

Granted, it hasn't happened yet.  You haven't been confronted with the reality of your parents focusing on a new, crying being who doesn't get the importance of Buzz Lightyear in a daily routine.  So, I'll withhold some judgement until the deed is actually done, and just say "So far, so good."

Christmas was a blast with you this year. You totally "got" who Santa is and for days afterward reassured me and yourself aloud that Santa had been here and he ATE THOSE COOKIES.  You're still depressed that Christmas is over and the tree is gone, but you've consoled yourself with the fact that we have SNOW ON THE GROUND! THAT IS SNOW, MAMA! IT IS WINTERTIME! Which apparently is almost as good as Christmas if you are three.

You're a good boy all around.  You're so loving and intuitive, I can't imagine you being anything but a doting big brother.  (Yes, I'm delusional, but I'm nine months pregnant and I need to bright side everything in my life.)  You're funny and smart and a constant source of delight.  You're fully obsessed with Toy Story and everything related to it. You completed your set of Toy Story folks at Christmas and now are prone to carrying around Jessie, Bullseye, Buzz, Woody, and Slinky Dog all at the same time.  You demand we read the Toy Story book every night before bed (Oh, I never thought I'd see the day wherein I *missed* Chicka Chicka Boom Boom) and beg and bargain to watch one of the Toy Story movies at some point every day.  Buzz and Woody are as much a part of our family now as you are.

This week, you were sick with some unnamed virus so you stayed home from school and hung out with your Grandma and now you're spoiled rotten and think it's your birthright to eat mashed potatoes for every meal and commandeer every "blanklet" in the house for your snuggling needs.  I don't mind so much that I've been up all night with you every night, because you are so loving and sweet when you are sick, I take some perverse pleasure in it.  Hearing a feverish "I lub you, Mama" makes being awake at 3:00 in the morning totally okay.

Bless you and your precious heart. I am overjoyed that you are my little boy.  Lily sure has a tough act to follow.

All my love,
Mama

Baby 2, Letter 5

Dear Baby,

We had Thanksgiving, and now Christmas.  We'll have the New Year, and then I'll take a nap and you will be here. I was so worried about being this pregnant over the holiday season - I was afraid I wouldn't enjoy any of it and instead just be a cranky shrew through all the preparations and festivities - but I couldn't have been more wrong. I did enjoy the season, despite my ever-diminishing sleep schedule and my difficulty moving around.  Your father was a big help and we did all the things we usually do, including getting the house all dolled up and seeing every possible friend and family member.

I've said that this pregnancy seems harder than the last one, and it has been in many ways. But one major thing has been infinitely better.  I have had no pain.  Last time, I had excruciating pain when I walked for the last five or six weeks of pregnancy.  Also, that diabetes part was pretty unfortunate and I've been glad to freely eat ice cream throughout this pregnancy.  So being pain-free made doing all the cooking and traveling and celebrating much more enjoyable than I anticipated, and I guess I should thank you for that.

Your daddy got me a wine-themed Christmas which seems sort of like torture seeing as I can't enjoy the rewards yet, but he knows me well and I love having something to look forward to. He's made a big batch of homemade wine for me and for Christmas I got all the necessary accessories to fully enjoy it.  Bubbles, baby! He got me a machine to put bubbles in my wine! And a fancy carafe that will keep it cold by the pool. He's a clever guy, your father.  You'll see.

The doctor says you are so perfect I don't need another sonogram. I mean, I guess that's a good thing, but dang if  I wasn't hoping to sneak one last good peek at you before you arrive.  I love sonogram photos.  You  look so happy in there, just floating around, practicing breathing.  That womb looks like a pretty good hang out.

I've got all your grandmas and aunts and friends lined up to come and help us after you are born and it's gonna be a big ole girl party.  For over three years, this house has been a boy's club but all of that is about to change, Sister. You and me, we're gonna show your dad and big brother what girls are all about.

See you in a few weeks, Baby.  You're the last piece of this family puzzle and we're anxious to be complete.

All my love,
Mama

Baby 2, Letter 4

Dear Baby,

We had another sonogram last week, you and I.  One of the few perks of being such an antique mommy is the plentiful sonograms they reward you with in these late-in-life pregnancies.  I am loving the regular opportunities to see your little face, and by the way, thanks a bunch for being cooperative this time.  We got some nice profile shots and one good 3D view of you.  Last time you pouted, facing my spine and refusing to say "Cheese" for the camera, so again, thanks for this recent one.  You were a very good baby, indeed.

You're transverse, which means you are laying across my belly instead of head down like you are supposed to be. I suppose it must be my fault - your brother spent the majority of his gestational time in the same position.  It doesn't really matter, since we have a scheduled c-section planned, so you just go ahead and lay however you dang well please.

I saw on the sonogram that you have some hair.  No offense, Baby, but that kind of freaks me out.  And today I was sitting in a co-workers office and you started kicking so hard that my belly looked like a piece of  Christmas ribbon candy in motion.  Also, a little freaky - moreso for my co worker than myself, but still.  Even on this second go 'round I'm often stunned by the alien quality of the whole thing.  THERE IS A WHOLE PERSON INSIDE OF ME.  That is weird.  You might understand what I  mean someday if you decide to make another person of your own.

I'm excited that you're a girl. At every sonogram I plead with the sonographers. "It IS a girl, right? I mean, is there a chance you have screwed this up?"  They dutifully roll their eyes and show me your girl parts AGAIN. Not that I have anything against having a boy baby, but at this point, I'm totally married to the girl idea.  I've got the pink nursery and I've started thinking about hair and most of all I look forward so much to having a girl in the house to talk to and share secrets with.  No pressure, Baby, but I plan for you to be my BFF, so get ready.  I've got your grandma, Aunt, and Honorary Aunt Lindsey all lined up to come and help me out after you are born your dad goes back to work. It's gonna be girl HEAVEN up in here.

We're getting close, Baby. Almost too close. I hope to finish off the nursery this weekend, and I think I've collected all the necessary items.  We have Christmas pretty much under control, so come Monday all I have to focus on is wrapping up my job so I can enjoy sitting around and holding you and doing little else for several months.

It's the most fun Christmas season EVER, preparing for such an awesome gift to come right after the holiday, - a little belated but a sweeter package never existed.

I love you more than cookies, kittens, and fuzzy slippers.

Mommy

Baby 2, Letter 3

Dear Baby,

Ready or not, here you come.

The panic has set in.  Your nursery is a mess.  I don't have a swing yet.  Your father only gets a week off work for your arrival.  Your brother is so excited for your arrival, I'm afraid he'll pick you up by the leg to play with you like he does Buzz Lightyear, his favorite toy.

I need to sterilize things and paint things and fold things, but most of all I need a big fat nap. You are exhausting me.  I still have 7 weeks to go but I look like I'm going to give birth to twins tomorrow.

We made it through Thanksgiving relatively unscathed, and now I'm gearing up for Christmas and at the same time gearing up for you. December, you rat fink, why did you come before I was ready??  I meant to have this baby stuff all wrapped up neatly with a bow before the holidays struck, but look, here we are.  Ready or not.

Still, none of it really matters, does it?  All you really need is a drawer full of diapers and one full of soft things to sleep in.  Got that covered.  You have places to sleep and two parents who adore you and a  big brother who is over the moon at the prospect of a baby sister.

I tried to avoid the pink explosion in your nursery but apparently it's endemic to the whole "girl baby" thing and I cannot get around it no matter how hard I try.  Welcome to the sea of pink, little muffin.  It's gonna be gorgeous in there.

I wish you'd come tomorrow.  I'm ready in the way that really matters.  Ready to hold you and nibble your tiny baby cheeks and sit for hours with you in a chair, blissed out on what your Aunt Kalli calls "baby Xanax".

All my love and then some,
Mama

Thankful, 2012

Thanksgiving morning.

Today:

I have a delightful 3 and-almost-1/2-year-old boy and I am 31 weeks pregnant with a healthy baby girl.

I have a job I love doing work that helps our community.

My husband is a rock, and he supports all of my hair-brained schemes.

Our families are well.  We see them often and love them all to bits.

Friends are plentiful, funny, charming, and thoughtful.

I am the happiest I have ever been in my life.  My cup runneth over.


I will not say coming to this place was easy for me.  My tendency to self-sabotage in the early parts of my adulthood was strong.  I made some poor choices, I had some just plain bad luck, and I sometimes was a slow learner.  I am grateful today for so many things, but  most of all, I think I am grateful that I finally had the good sense to stop being my own worst enemy.  To simply put down the axe I was grinding, to stop living "in the moment" to such a degree that the future got bleak, and allow myself to be serene and happy.

Try try again.

I haven't blogged much, here or elsewhere, since I started my new job.  I've been trying to figure out why that is, when in the past I was such a prolific and committed writer.

 I considered that maybe it was to do with the pregnancy and that I have "pregnant brain" and just can't focus.

Or maybe it is that my new, much more demanding job is sucking the life out of me.

Or maybe this parasite I'm growing is sucking the life out of me.

Or maybe I just got tired of hearing myself talk.

Maybe my life has gotten so dull I just have nothing to say. I mean, "I worked ten hours then I fed my family and then worked two more" isn't that fun to read about, overall.

Also, I don't drink.

Maybe it is all of the above. But I am going to start anew. I'm going to try. I miss it. I miss being able to look back. I liked it for "diary" purposes and I appreciate now being able to peruse my archives and do a lot of the "remember when" thing.  I'll regret not documenting, if for no one but myself, this part of my life.

Because even though I'm busier and more stressed than I've ever been, I'm also happier than I've ever been.

Maybe that's why I am not compelled to write. Maybe there is something to all that "writers are angsty" stuff.

But I need to.  For me.  It's probably not going to be very good. I'm rusty, not to mention the aforementioned boring.  So here goes nothing.  Don't feel pressured to read it.  I am setting a very low expectation for myself.  Just write a bit, at least once a week, even if it's just about much I appreciate George Clooney's ass.

Hi kids!!