A letter to William

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letter to William, threeyearsold, William

Dear William,

Last week you turned three years old and I wavered between throwing myself the pity party of “How can he be growing up so fast?!?” and “How I could I be so lucky to have this most precious, kind, loving and wonderful little boy be mine?” In the same week that you turned three, a couple from our birthing class when we were pregnant with you lost their 22 month old daughter. Witnessing their grief, struggle and pain played out on their blog and social media wrecked me. It brought close to home the reality of how precious my time with you is. I often get trapped in worrying about money or how our house manages to be a disaster an hour after cleaning that I forget to stop and laugh with you and wrestle with you and even jump on the couch and act full-on silly. And I’m not perfect. That emotional roller-coaster that played out in my head and on my heart hasn’t instantly made me the mother who throws caution to the wind and just jumps in the moment. But I am taking baby steps to be more of that mother for you.

After your birthday party this past weekend we came home to an impending thunderstorm. It started to rain and I asked you if you wanted to take off your shoes and run around in it with me. You said, “Mommy, it’s going to thunder!” and were pretty insistent we shouldn’t go. Finally after a little more prodding you said, “Let’s go!” So, we took off our shoes and we ran laps around the yard during a heavy rain, hopped in our tree swing, splashed in the collected water on the patio and let ourselves get drenched. I loved every moment of that experience with you.

I have to tell you that every day I am amazed by you. Some days it’s the way you so gently guide Noah to an activity or offer him a hug unprompted. Some days it’s how you use “bad” language in the correct context but quickly ask, “Am I allowed to say that or is that a bad word?” When I tell you it’s bad, you don’t say it again! Some days it’s how you emulate me in the funniest ways – ways that drive your father crazy. When you get home from daycare each day, you immediately ask if you can put on your pajamas (just like me). And in the morning when Daddy tells us it’s time to get up, you throw out something funny like, “My back hurts, Daddy. We need five more minutes.” You are in many ways my mini-me and in other ways so much more open, adventurous and carefree than I could ever hope to be. You are forever seeking adventure and always offering a kind heart. Your sensitivity and emotional spirit are elements of you that I carry with pride.

You are a remarkable boy, son, brother and friend. I am so proud of you every day. I love you more than I could ever articulate. That will never change.

Love,

Mommy

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A letter to William

Dear William,

This past weekend was one of the longest and most exhausting from recent memory. We tackled potty training and moving you into a “big boy” bed. There were tears, sighs, plenty of frustration, serious attitude and quite a bit of laughter. You are head-strong and determined and I love your stubbornness, even as it makes me shake my head and say aloud, “Why are you so stubborn?” Your grandmother put it right when she said you get it honestly. Indeed you do. I believe you come from two families full of stubborn folks!

I have an app on my phone called “Timehop” that sends me random pictures from the last eight years or so from my FB and Instagram accounts. This means that daily I see a photo of you from when you were a tiny thing, wide-eyed and unable to communicate. I think about holding you a year ago, two years ago, and how different it was then compared to now. I think about my frustration when you wouldn’t make a sound anywhere close to “MaMa” but how “DaDa” came so easily. I think about the short phase where you preferred your father to me (I was not a good sport about it!). I think about all of my fears and doubts about you hitting milestones on time and whether we were doing enough to help you develop your communication and social skills. Now it all seems so silly to me.

You continue to do things at your own pace, when you are good and ready. The day we told you that you needed to give up your pacifier when you turned two, you threw it in the trash can and never looked back. I’ll never forget that moment. This weekend we told you it was time to wear underwear and be a big boy. The first day was dramatic. You had four accidents in a row, you were scared of the dragon you insist lives at the bottom of the toilet, and you were clearly feeling too much pressure. We were asking too many times if you needed to go. The next day we backed off. We told you we knew you could do it. We asked less often. You were game every time we did ask and you were proud. The original plan was to keep you home on Monday with me so you could have one more day of practice. Knowing you as I do, I knew you didn’t need it. I knew you needed the challenge right away. We sent you to daycare and you went without a single accident. Not one! You were so proud when you came home. You immediately asked about a present (because you know to expect presents when you comply so easily…) and you opened up your package of Spider man underwear, Mickey Mouse toilet seat and a new toy car, and you were ecstatic. There’s nothing that makes me quite as happy as seeing you so happy and proud of yourself.

Last night as I lay beside your crib, as I do until you fall asleep each night, you reached your hand through the slat of the crib and asked me to hold your hand. About five minutes went by and you asked me to kiss you. You sat up, gave me a big smooch and then laid back down still holding tightly to my hand. We held hands until you were fast asleep. It is in moments like that I find myself so overwhelmingly grateful and surprised by how motherhood has changed me, opened me up. While I feel very sure in my identity separate from being a mother, it is being a mother that has made my heart full.

You are a gift to me in every way imaginable. You remind me to be tender and open-hearted. You remind me that being stubborn isn’t always a bad thing. You teach me patience, so much patience, and you give me a way to see life in a new light, with new eyes. I am constantly reminded what an honor it is to be your mother, to watch you grow and change and tackle new obstacles. I love you.

Mommy

A letter to Noah

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firstbirthday, oneyearold

Dear Noah,

In one year you have radically changed the landscape of what our family looks like. We had a pretty solid pattern and schedule and things were going okay. Out of nowhere (well, it was a long time coming) the company I worked for shut their doors the last day of December. I was suddenly staying at home caring for William and stressing to find a new job. Then came March and the surprise of a lifetime. When three doctors have told you that you will never naturally conceive a child, you believe them. I trust science. But, there you were. When I first saw your heartbeat flicker on that screen and I realized this new life growing inside of me, completely unexpected and definitely unprepared, I was a nervous wreck. I was wrought with excitement and terror and happiness and fear. So many emotions were swirling through my head that I had a hard time seeing how it would all just work. And as my belly grew and my pregnancy progressed, I started to understand just how perfect timing the unexpected parts of life can truly be. It had only been a month or so before we first knew you existed that I had said I wasn’t sure if we would have more children. I didn’t know if it would work for us. I didn’t know if I wanted to go through the potential heartbreak of it not happening. But there you were.

My labor with you was one of the defining and life-changing experiences of my life. It probably sounds trite, and you may  never understand being that you are a boy, but the ease in which you came into the world and the way in which I felt so connected to you as I labored gently and without fear was empowering. You gave me the kind of birth story that I will carry with me as a reminder of the power I have over my mind and my body and the way in which I am in control of my own fears and insecurities. So, thank you.

This past year you have proven yourself a gentle, calm, even-tempered, affectionate, loving, hilarious, smart, strong and vivacious boy. Your laugh is infectious and the way you watch William excitedly waiting to be a part of whatever he is doing, or to laugh at his antics, is so reassuring to me. When you want something, you go right for it. When you fall, you rarely cry. You always get right back up and head steadfast on your mission. When you are tired or cranky, you bury your head in my chest and it fills my heart every time. I love to make you laugh and see you dance. You are such a light in my life and I am forever grateful that you came into our family.

Happy first birthday, my darling boy.

I love you always.

Mama

A letter to Noah

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lettertonoah

Dear Noah,

In just the last week you turned six months old. Half a year. These past six months with you have been a learning experience. With William, I was completely clueless and flying by the seat of my pants at every turn. With you, I had the background of already raising a baby for a year so I had something to compare each scenario to. Perhaps the most interesting part of these six months has been how drastically different my experience with you has been. It’s hard to not compare. I apologize for that. I’m sure I will forever compare your milestones or experiences to those of William because he is 16 months ahead of you – experiencing each milestone first. Part of that comparison is how I find comfort in where you are and part of it is my fear that I’m not doing something right with you, not teaching you enough, not exposing you to the right things, not reading enough or singing enough or even talking enough to you. But truly what I am finding out is that you will come to each milestone in your own time.

Noah, you are such a joy to me. You are the happiest, most easy-going baby I could imagine. Your eyes light up when you see me and it fills my heart so deeply that I can’t imagine what life was like before you were a part of our family. You smile widely and coo and are content to cuddle with me, wrap my hair around your fingers and twirl it, or rest your head on my chest and take a long nap. To see you searching the room for me is at the core of how motherhood has given me new life and purpose.

My greatest hope for you is that your disposition is something you are able to hold on to as you grow older. You are adaptable, go-with-the-flow, and incredibly patient. No matter the amount of prodding we have put you through at the doctor’s office or at home during your couple months of viruses, you stay pleasant and happy.

To add to all the adorable you encompass, perhaps my most favorite thing is how you have refused a pacifier since day one, but once you found those two fingers to suck on you were golden.

Always,

Mama

A letter to Noah

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Lettertobaby

Dear Noah,

If you or your brother have any interest whatsoever in who your parents were when you were babies then you are likely actually reading these letters and posts. You are also probably noticing a few things. 1. I wrote ALOT about your brother while he was in my belly and once he was here. 2. I clearly don’t love you as much because I rarely post anything about you….and at this point you’ve been here for 3 whole months! Here’s the thing: #2 couldn’t be further from the truth. The real truth is that life was slower and much easier before we were juggling both of you. That’s just the reality of two under two. I’m sure there are mothers out there who have and will do it better than me. They probably have their baby books filled out each month. I just finished filling out the first page…. I’m functioning on just four hours of sleep a night and working full-time. And by the time I get home, get you both fed and bathed, and get your brother wore out enough to crash, it is 8:30. And then I exercise for a half hour, feed you again, and it’s 10. And the only thing I want to do by then is sit quietly on the couch and cuddle you, stroke your sweet baby cheeks and soak it ALL in.

You are special to me in all sorts of different ways from your brother. You are the best surprise I have and will ever have. I had accepted after your brother was born that we might not have any more children. It just wasn’t in the cards for us. Finding out you were happening was one of the most beautiful blessings of my life. When a blessing of that magnitude happens to you, it shakes you and wakes you up.

You, my sweet boy, have rounded out our family’s love story. Three months in and we are all so madly in love with you.

Just this morning we had laid you in the crib while we were getting ready for work. You still live in our room so your room is a hub of your furniture, our ironing board, miscellaneous toys of your brother’s and clothes of mine. Your father was ironing, and I was putting on makeup, and your brother was demanding we put him in the crib with you. He was hanging on the rails and exclaiming, “Help. Help. Help. Up. Up. Up.” I lifted him into your crib and he laid beside you, grabbed your hand, and started to sing, “Row, row your boat…” I’m fairly certain your father and I both melted a little while watching this family we have created exist in this perfect moment. I’m sure a few minutes later one or both of you were crying, and we were scrambling to get out the door with our sanity. But, in that moment, I saw how lucky and fortunate we are to have one another.

These days you are still mostly just sleeping and eating, but in between you give us the most contagious smiles and giggles. I live for those.

I love you.

Mama

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letter to William & Noah

Dear William and Noah,

Right now you are only vaguely aware of one another. William – you know there is this baby that now lives beside you and steals attention away from you but you are not fully aware of what it all means. Noah – you have no idea. Though you may be slightly in tune to the fact that one person who lives here has tried to sit on you, grab your head and kiss you with teeth. Sorry about that.

There will come a time in your lives when you are one another’s best friend and comrade. You will tell secrets, dirty jokes and make faces at me behind my back. (I’d prefer to think you will be far too sweet for that but I was known to do that from time to time so I won’t put it past you just yet.) You will laugh together, cry together (Yes, boys cry!) and grow together. You will figure out what it means to have someone you are forever bound to by blood and love – someone you can’t necessarily live with but certainly can’t live without. The bonds of siblings are powerful and real and even when you may think you hate one another you will find that beneath those negative feelings is a flood of concern, interest and love.

I pray that you will always see in one another a person who has your back and your trust. I pray you will always know one another, and will always feel you have someone forever in your corner to navigate the ups and downs of this life.

It brings me great joy to watch you right now as you slowly become aware of one another and will bring me even greater joy to watch you grow up side by side. You two are my greatest blessings and accomplishments and I could not love you any more than I do.

Always,

Mama

A Letter to William – 15 months

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15 months, letter to William

Dear William,

Today marks 15 months you have blessed our lives. I honestly can’t remember life before you. I’m sure we went out more, stayed up later, blew more money and planned more vacations…but I can’t remember how I felt before you. It seems that I spent many years caught up in emotional highs and lows. I was often a slave to my anxiety. I can’t tell you that I’m no longer anxious…I mean we are about to have another baby in our family not long after having you. But I can tell you that I feel centered and at peace in a way that I couldn’t imagine before you. You are the calm in my storm these days. When I start to get antsy about the future or I start to feel overwhelmed about how we will be a family of four in eight weeks (!!!) I look at you or kiss you or snuggle with you and everything feels in place.

You are increasingly verbal when you aren’t crying for your “ne ne” (Binky). You love to point out “Dog Dog” which has come to stand for any animal though you are most excited at the sight of dogs. You love to feed Roxie her treats as well as go in for an open-mouthed kiss when we aren’t looking. Thankfully Roxie isn’t completely sure about your kisses but she will gladly take any food out of your hand ever so gently. Our morning snuggles have started to evolve as you have figured out how to slide off the bed and go find Daddy while he’s getting ready. You sign “more” when you love whatever we are feeding you – even if there is already more on your plate. I’m forever surprised by the foods you try and love – kalamata olives, pickles, any kind of sauce…You love to read books and are finally able to sit still long enough to saddle into one of our laps and bring your book to read. You love to do the motions for itsy-bitsy spider and patty-cake. Dancing is your favorite activity and you will instantly run to the record player and start shaking your butt and twisting your arms when we put on a record. You have ridiculous rhythm for a toddler. You hate to ride in the car, ride in a buggy (unless it’s the car kind) or sit in a stroller. You have to be moving!

You are very sensitive. When I hurt my finger the other night cooking and I sat in the floor to nurse my wound while your Daddy got a bandage you came and sat in my lap and laid your head in my chest. It was obvious you knew that I was upset and you were comforting me. It’s always the days that are long or hard that you are most snuggly with me. You still give kisses but most of the time the only way I can get you to give me one on command is when you see me kiss your Daddy. Then instantly you want to give one!

Sweet, sweet William – you have added spark and energy to my life and a renewed sense of what’s important and beautiful. I am so thankful for you.

I love you always.

Mommy

A letter to William

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letters to William

Dear William,

For a while I was really pushing for you to walk because you had been “cruising” for so long, and it seemed to me that you were really ready but just weren’t confidant enough to go for it. Everyone told me that I would regret wishing for you to walk. They said I would look back fondly on the days you were only crawling. Well, they were partially right. I do miss the days of not having to constantly chase you and guide you to keep you from imminent danger – stairs, low-lying objects, unlocked cabinets, Daddy’s guitars/amps/cables/wires/plugs/shiny metal objects…but I love watching you explore. I love how resilient you are. You will go from a walk to a run in a few seconds flat and then promptly land on your butt or fall face first. You just stand up, shake it off and keep going! I often think that surely you will start crying from scraping your knees or bonking your head on the wall but you don’t. You just keep going.

Lately you have been in a “Mommy” phase and I’ve really been soaking it in. I know it’s just that…a phase…and the time will pass when you will just want your Daddy. For the first 11 months of your life it was your daddy who would rock you to sleep at night. I always felt like he should get that time with you since I got to have the special bonding time of breastfeeding you (not to mention carrying you for 9 months and birthing you!) I wanted you two to develop your own special bonding time. Now you only want me to put you to sleep when given the choice and I’m relishing these moments with you. Some nights I know you are out within a couple minutes of rocking but I hold on to you for another 15 minutes because I can feel and see you turning into a big boy and before long you won’t want to be rocked at night.

We’ve started working with you on your words more. You’ve started just in the last few days saying “MAMAMAMAMAMA” but not necessarily to me. You very clearly know that I’m “Mama” but you like to just say it to the air when you are feeling upset or frustrated. Sometimes I’m not so sure that you see a distinction between calling me Mama and calling your binky Mama. We do both provide comfort so I’ll take it.

We only have three more months before our time as a family of three will change forever. I am excited to see how you react to a baby and also nervous that you will have to share some of the attention. Life is about to change in a big way for all of us but I can only see an abundance of laughter and cuddles coming our way.

I love you my sweet, sweet boy.

Mama

A Letter On Your First Birthday

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first birthday, letter to William

Dear William,

Today is has been exactly a year since you came into our lives. It often felt like the anticipation of you was going to make my heart burst with excitement. I thought about you constantly, wondering about all of your details, worrying about being the best mother to you. Now, I think about you every minute of the day. You are my first and last thought. To be your mother is both an extraordinary gift and a heavy responsibility. The connection that I feel with you is not even something I can relate in words. You grew in my body, a part of me, and now you are a year old growing into a little boy. You are climbing and standing – preparing to start walking and running. Soon you will be running away from me and I will be chasing you, worried you will fall. And, you will fall. And I will pick you up. This is a process we will repeat many times over until the day you are old enough to pick yourself up. It is my job to prepare you to live in a world where you feel independent and strong and capable of picking yourself up. My responsibility to you is out of great love to give you security, stability and the courage to be your own. It will be hard for me. Not because I don’t want you to explore the world on your own but because I love you so much that I want only wonderful, beautiful things for your life. I will be scared for you. I will hurt for you. But, I will also cheer for you and be the first one in line for a hug, a high-five and a beaming smile of pride.

You will always be my baby. You changed my life for the better the day you were born, and I will never be the same.

I love you.

Mommy

A love for music

Tags

Baby, letter to baby, motherhood, music

 

Dear William,

As I write this you are napping peacefully in your swing. Don’t be fooled. It took a solid ten minutes of coercion to convince you that I was indeed making you take a nap. You can’t be bothered with sleep. You are forever on the move exploring every toy, book, and ball you can find. You are boundless energy and I love watching you as you discover what sounds each toy will make, and how you can transfer objects from one hand to the other. It is the opportunity to see how magical every little thing in life is all over again. Except this time I cognitively understand how fascinating movement and exploration really are. What a gift that truly is.

I write to you today because I have noticed your affinity for music. In the morning when we eat breakfast you stare at the record player until I put on a tune. You love for me to swing you in the air and dance. In your playroom I watch you crawl to one of your baskets of toys and take out the drum. You turn it over and start pounding on it. You will hold the ukulele and strum a tune. One day last week you even crawled along the couch, turned over your father’s Strat and starting strumming. It was as if you had always known what to do.

Even if you never take up an instrument or pursue music as a hobby, I hope and pray that you will find as much peace and satisfaction out of a love for music as I have. Your father loves music in a different way than I do. He is a musician (I can play the piano but I’m no musician) and he enjoys the performance and the practice. I enjoy listening, memorizing songs and belting them out when I’m alone. I enjoy getting really fired up while listening to an album. My heart feels like it is beyond full because of how much I just LOVE a song or an album. Music is something that has carried me through my life through difficult and beautiful times. I wish that for you – that you may know music as something that can build you up, heal you and sometimes save you from yourself.

The romance between your father and I started because of music. We worked together in a small, cramped office and it was our shared interest in music that started our friendship. We would alternate playing songs and albums for one another. Your father introduced me to a love for Bob Dylan and I introduced him to a love for Ani Difranco. That pretty much sealed the deal. ;) We fell in love over concerts, late-night album listening sessions and conversation over the merits of artists and songs. Music has defined so much of how we came to fall in love and understand one another.

I see in you an early interest in music and a responsiveness to the different sounds you hear. It is my promise to you that I will expose you to a wide range of music, and I will take you to many concerts. I pray that you may always have the love of music to keep you company when you are lonely, and to drive you when you are moving through the chapters of life.

I love you my sweet boy.

Mommy