Tag Archives: Open Letters

An Open Letter to Baby L (3 Months)

Dear Lilah,

This letter is a little late. You are a little over three months old now. You are just getting over your first cold, which has caused me so much anxiety, this letter was the furthest thing from my mind. Besides that, I really didn’t have time to write it because I was constantly calling the nurse or on-call doctor to make sure that you didn’t have whooping cough, you know, or leprosy. (Your mother, as you may well know, is sort of a crazy person…but it is all out of love. And, you know, maybe a tiny bit of chemical imbalance…)

You’ve been rather fussy during this last week or so, due I’m sure, to the amount of snot you are storing in your face. But it is still a really cute face. So, I hardly mind sucking snot out of it with that bulbous thing that sort of scares me. (I sometimes feel like your brain might somehow turn to complete mush and I will accidently suck it right out and into that weird bulb…and that would be bad on the whole “good/bad scale”.) You had been sleeping through the night for several weeks (because your mother is a genius and bought the most amazing baby sleeping contraption known to man…) but since you have been sick, you basically just want to play or cry. Sleeping happens at night, but it is not really something that you do willingly. It is something that, either, you can’t help but do because you have fought naptime all day and you, despite your resistance, just can’t stay awake any longer, or something that you are helped to do by a little thing called “Childrens’ Benadryl”. I will say that I was very reluctant to give this to you, but I was advised by two (count ‘em, TWO) pediatricians that this would not hurt you if given a small dose and it would also help you (and me) to get some sleep. It works and it is glorious. I have given you three doses , total, but sometimes I feel that I should also dose myself. Because after I give it to you, I lie awake and obsess over the fact that I’ve just given you medicine. And then I listen to you breathe. You know, just to make sure.

In other news, you are doing some pretty adorable things:

  1. You are almost rolling over. This confuses me, because you actually rolled over a few times when you were about 4 weeks old. But then you stopped doing it. Almost like you didn’t want to make me think that you were a genius right off the bat, so you had to slow your role so I didn’t expect too much. Whatever. You are starting again. And it is pretty rad.
  2. Yesterday, you held your bottle and ate by yourself for FIVE MINUTES. I don’t know when you are supposed to be able to do that, so I ran around the house looking for someone to witness it. Your grandmother and I are convinced that you are a child prodigy in the making.
  3. You like to take naps in mommy and daddy’s bed. You sleep on your side and you are probably the most beautiful thing that was ever invented.
  4. You giggled at your reflection in the mirror twice the other day. I cried because you are so cute/smart/awesome.
  5. You like to try and eat this Jacksonville Jaguars blanket/stuffed animal thing that you got from a lady at the hospital on the day you were born. It is very soft. You really like soft things on your face.
  6. You like it when I kiss the bottoms of your feet. And, just so you know, I hate feet. But yours are completely edible. And I probably WOULD have eaten them if it weren’t really wrong to do that…and probably illegal.
  7. You are the only kid I have ever seen who gets excited when laid on the changing table. You smile like crazy when it is time for a new diaper. But you don’t cry when you are wet.
  8. You always smile at me when I pick you up from your sleeper in the morning. It is the kind of smile that makes my heart melt all the way through. You are so genuinely excited to see me. Maybe ALMOST as excited as I am to see YOU. (Although, this is doubtful.)
  9. You are liking baths more and more. You have learned to splash. You should be called “Crazy Legs”. I think that your dad and I walk away more soaked than you.
  10. When you are sleeping and your pacifier falls out of your mouth, you sometimes still make the sucking motion with your mouth for several seconds. And it makes me giggle.

This afternoon, you fought your nap for such a long time and then after your bottle, you fell right to sleep in my lap, just like you did when you were brand new. And, of course, I cried a little. Because, that’s what mommies do.

As always, I am totally in love with you. More than I thought I could be with any other person. Except your dad. Because, if I’m being completely honest, you guys are what I live for. (Just a little reminder.)

Until next time…

 

All of my love,

Mom

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Open Letter to Baby L at Two Months

Dear Lilah,

In two days, you will be exactly two months old. It is really hard to believe that you have been with us that long, but then, at the same time, ridiculous to think that it hasn’t been longer. You have become the center of our universe and I can’t remember the days before you came. This is not at all a bad thing. In fact, this is the kind of thing that I might have thought, as a single person in my twenties, I might have hated, but have realized that I actually really love and appreciate. You are honestly the joy in my every day.

A big part of that “joy” I mention stems from the fact that you have started to sleep at night. When it is appropriate. I bought you this new sleeping contraption (because all of the reviews were written by new moms whose children didn’t sleep ANYWHERE, just like you) which you seem to enjoy more than anything we’ve previously tried. And it is glorious and easily portable and it has saved me from life on the couch. As much as I appreciate that cuddle time that you and I shared on a nightly basis, I did not enjoy sleeping in the living room. (Which became infested with spiders right about the time we brought you home from the hospital. And, as I’m sure you will know by the time you read this, your mom is terrified of spiders. TERRIFIED. I hope you someday appreciate my renegade spider murders.)

Currently, your father and I are attempting to prepare to move in with your grandma, aunt and cousin at the end of this month. This is going to be a major event for me because I am not used to living with family and your cousin is only four and I still get super nervous when he is around you. We have decided, however, that for the time being, this is the best option for everyone (mostly you) because your father and I will be able to save money while I am not working and can stay home with you and not fret about bills. I’d always thought that if I ever had a child, I would want to be with her as much as possible and that I would want to be the one to teach her things and mold her into a caring, generous and kind individual and we think that this, for the next few months, will help us build a nest egg and a foundation for how you will be raised. I’m excited and nervous at the same time. But I would do anything to ensure that you have the best things that I can give you.

You are smiling all the time now and I am convinced that you think that I am hilarious and that you will laugh any day now. Your Grandma J seems to think that she will be the one who first makes you laugh but I am sure that it will be me. You coo and widen your eyes when I speak to you and you try to mimmick the faces that I make. Unfortunately, you do not like it when I try to take video of anything that you do with my phone and you immediately stop being the conversational little girl and start to whimper or fuss. Needless to say, I have many videos of you in which you are initially smiling and then, within seconds, you hate everything. I am hoping that this is not an indication of how you will be during moments like your first steps or things of that nature.

A couple of days ago, your grandmother, for the first time ever that I can remember, told me that she is proud of me for being such a good mom to you. At the time, although I’d fully heard her say the words, I couldn’t comprehend what she meant. And in thinking about it, I was reminded of what kind of relationship I want to have with you. I want to make sure that there is never a doubt in your mind that I am already, and always will be, proud to call you my daughter. And I hope that we will have the kind of relationship in which we will not only love each other, but respect and try to understand each other. Because what is most important to me is to have a part in the kind of person that you become, but to also get to KNOW what kind of person that is.

Your father and I are very much looking forward to every next day with you and every single thing you do is new and beautiful and exciting for us. We love you to the moon and back.

Love,

Mom

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One Month (Better Late than Never…)

So, when Baby L was born, I decided that I wanted to write her a letter for every month of her first year and then every year on her birthday after that and give them all to her when she turns 18. And, believe it or not, I actually found the time to write her a letter when she was four weeks old. Today, I sat down to start her TWO MONTH (I cannot BELIEVE that she will be 8 weeks old on Saturday!) letter and thought I might share with the interweb, the letter that I wrote to her last month.

Behold!

Dear Lilah,

Four weeks ago today, your daddy and I met you for the first time.

Even though I carried you inside me for nine (which really means ten, and that’s what they don’t tell you about being pregnant) months, I had no idea of the profound impact that you would have on my life (and really, the profound impact that you had already had).  The moment that I first saw you, I knew a love that I had never experienced before and had never anticipated. And for that, my dearest daughter, I am eternally grateful to you.

You had jaundice when you were born because you and I have different blood types and your little body was not used to the antibodies that my body passed to you through the placenta. You had to have light treatments for days when you and I were in the hospital. You had to wear tiny pads over your eyes and only a diaper. You sort of looked like you were in a tiny tanning bed. (Don’t go to tanning beds. They are super gross and bad for you. Also, tanning is really gross. If this doesn’t make sense to you when you read this, let me know, and I will introduce you to a little something called “Jersey Shore” which should clear it all up for you.) We had to stay in the hospital longer than we anticipated because the doctor wanted to keep an eye on you to make sure that your jaundice improved. Luckily, it did and we were all able to go home together, just delayed only a day. You got better and better from there. Even with the slight yellowish tint that you had when we brought you home, you were still the most beautiful baby I have ever seen. Or maybe just the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Period. (Which sounds more accurate.)

We have had a whole month with you now. And it has been quite the adjustment for your daddy and me. You have terrible gas pains (which is something that I had to include in this letter so that I don’t cry through the whole thing) and you don’t really like to sleep unless someone is holding you or you are in your swing. (Your swing, which you generally don’t like to be actually swinging in.) During the week, when your dad goes to work, I sleep on the couch, near you while you are in your swing, or with you curled up on my chest.  I miss sleeping very much, but the moments we spend together during these times are far more precious than I can ever put into words because I know that you will grow up fast and will not always want to cuddle with your mom. (And this makes my heart ache.) On the weekends, your dad stays up with you at night and cuddles with you while I sleep in our bed to recharge for the week ahead. Your dad works really hard during the week, but I think he enjoys this time with you also, even if he doesn’t sleep as much as he is used to.

You are a very strong baby and can already roll from your back to your side without help, which shocks me every time you do it. You definitely have my eyes, and possibly my ears and it looks like the lower half of your face comes from your dad. We are so excited to see what you will look like as you grow bigger. We await the days when you will smile socially (meaning, not just when you have gas) and that we can hear your little giggle. We are so looking forward to all your little milestones and watching you grow.

There hasn’t been a day that has gone by since you were born that I didn’t fall more in love with you. Your grandmas have been lovely and have watched you a few times so that your father and I can sleep and once or twice so that we could have dinner out together and it breaks my heart every time I leave you. Just this last weekend, your Grandma picked you up from our apartment and, as I strapped you into the car seat, I had to hold back tears. And you would only be gone a few hours! (Apparently, this is normal for moms, you will understand someday, but your father thinks I have lost it.)

Your father and I have been trying our best to make sure that you are the happiest, healthiest baby that you can be. (Sometimes this means that I will call the physician on call at your doctor’s office in the middle of the night because you have coughed twice.) I feel so blessed to have been given such a wonderful gift in this new family with you and your daddy and I promise to do everything I can to make sure that you know how much I love you. Every day.

All of my love,

Mom

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An Open Letter to My Daughter (Just Minutes Before Her Birth)

Dear Baby L,

I want to start by being honest with you hear and telling you that you will not be born in mere minutes. You are perfectly content to continue to reside in my uterus and according to the doctor that I saw this morning, will remain there for several more days. The title of this post is mainly just to send a signal to the universe (and you, I suppose, letting you know that IT IS TIME, and lets get this show on the ROAD.) But before you do grace us with your presence, I wanted for us to have a little talk, you know, our first mother/daughter.

If you have ever read this blog, then you are well aware that I was not really totally excited about becoming a parent. I didn’t really trust myself to be someone’s mom. And, to be honest, I am still not so sure I know what the hell I am getting myself into. I was pretty open about how crazy and horrible and beautiful making you was and you might be offended about the fact that I sometimes cussed at you here or called you a parasite. But seriously? Let’s face it, girlie, you kind of WERE a parasite. (Just sayin’.) You’ll understand all that when you have kids. But I want you to know, nonetheless, that even though I may not have been ready for all of this crazy that has happened or to become your mom, I am pretty sure I am ready now. And I am going to do the best damn job I can. But if I do happen to put your diaper on backwards or forget to put those weirdo mitten things on your hands and you scratch yourself in the face, it is NOT because I don’t love you. It is because I am a completely incompetent parent and am totally learning. I swear, it will get better. (Until I have to talk to you about boys and/or puberty. Then I just might totally fuck you up. And yes, your mother just said “fuck” because you aren’t born yet and cannot repeat everything I say like a parrot.)

Secondly, we should talk about your father. You may notice that he is a complete softie for you. And you may also have noticed that if you bat your eyelashes enough, you can pretty much attain anything your little heart desires. (This works for me too, by the way, and I rather like it. Don’t screw it up.) You should know that he already loves you more than anything in the entire universe. And your father has the biggest, purest, most amazing heart anyone could possess and you should treat him with respect. Because he is moral and loving and generous and will give of himself in ways that most people cannot. He is a gift to the universe and his kindness is rare. And he helped make you. And I have NO doubt that he will someday embarrass the bejesus out of you, and you will want to run and hide from him, but that’s normal. Just try and remember how special he is and be kind to him (and to others) because if not, you will break his heart.

I would like to explain the rest of the family to you here, but I just don’t have that kind of time. You will encounter some really interesting characters and some of them you will totally adore and some of them will make you want to shove sharp things into your eardrums. And that’s okay. I will warn you about those ones on a private and individual level.

Just know that, in these final days of your hostile takeover of my body gestation, your entire family is looking so forward to meeting you. Your father and I have everything set up for you, including 47 potential places for you to sleep, as we were not sure where you would be most content once removed from my body. We love you infinitely and we will do our best to avoid turning you into a psychopath or a douche canoe.

Love and kisses,

Mom