Thursday, March 20, 2008

Minus Seven Months: My Monthly Letter to New Baby

Dear New Baby,

This is your first monthly letter of what will hopefully be thousands. Because I intend to live to be 99 years old just so I get the pleasure of whining about how no one will charge the batteries of my Rascall Scooter for me and now I've been stuck in the casino for four days with no change of Depends.

I've decided to start writing these letters to you now, because they say that you're never as good with the second baby. That with the first one, you take thousands of pictures, which is very true for your big brother. The first weeks for his life, there were weeks where I had to create multiple Snapfish albums, because I had taken hundreds of pictures of him and none of them were considered bad by my sleep-deprived hormonal brain, so that family (luckily I was never psycho enough to send these albums to friends and acquaintances) were forced to go through 300 digital pictures of a newborn. All of which looked identical, except for the slight differentiations in levels of spit up on the onesie he was wearing.

I think we have relatives who still haven't been heard from 2.5 years later, because their computers are still on strike from the sheer volume of pictures of the blob with a comb over that he was at the time.

So I write this newsletter to you before you're even born (hell, per Babycenter, you still have a tail, which I hope you're really, really working on getting rid of, because tail removal? It ain't cheap if you're not of the dog family), because I didn't do so for your brother and that way, when you whine to me about having to wear your brother's hand-me-downs again or playing with toys that were broken from him hauling them from the loft area to the tile in the entry way, I can say "yeah, but he doesn't have letters from me saying all the embarrassing things you've put my body through."

See? You've won already! Also? I'm already earmarking extra therapy money to make up for these extra seven newsletters. I'm a good mom like that.

It might seem strange to write about someone I've never met. Although, I've already decided that you? You're going to be my trouble maker. I know it in every cell of my body.

Your brother is for the most part laid back. He was a fairly easy baby, except for that non-sleeping thing, which at the time made him seem like the devil reincarnate to me, but I can look back objectively now and see that really, he was a pretty great baby and that he's a pretty damn easy toddler, as his time in time alone is proportionately as small as the time I've spent wishing I was drunk in order to make it through the toddler years.

But you? I have this nagging feeling that you're not going to be so easy.

I thought you would be, until this week.

My pregnancy with your brother was the easiest thing ever. Sure, I was tired those first few months, and your father can show you the scars where I savagely attacked him that one time he got between me and a container of sour cream, but other than that, I was just my normal happy healthy self. No morning sickness, no issues whatsoever, life was grand and I swore that if I could, I'd spend the rest of my life pregnant.

The first couple of weeks with you were the same way.

And then this week, I had to pick up your brother from school early. I figured I'd do some work from home, but by the time I made it home, I was so nauseous and exhausted that I crawled into my bed with him and threw the remote and a bunch of candy at him and told him to entertain himself.

I came to an hour later and had to run to the bathroom to hurl every item of food I'd eaten for the past three years.

All this time, as I'm struggling to breathe in between waves of vomit, your brother is yelling at me from the bed "Mama, are you going potty?"

I tell you that you're going to be trouble, because you made me throw up the most glorious lunch of my favorite 10-dollar hamburger, from the custom burger joint. My burger, designed by me has goat cheese spread on it, avocado, black bean and corn salsa, fried onion strings and tomatoes on it, with garlic aioli sauce. What is not to love, you half-inch long ingrate?

Since I can't put you in time alone yet, I'm totally taking that 10 bucks out of your allowance.

Don't tell your dad, but I've already got your name picked out. I used to think you were a boy, when you were first behaving like your brother. Now? I'm thinking you're a girl, the kind of girl who won't take any shit and will beat up her big brother just because he looked at her funny.

The kind of girl that I've always wanted to be and sometimes pretend I am.

In the end, it doesn't matter to me what you are or what your quirks are, as long as you learn to appreciate the art that is my favorite 10-dollar burger.

And that you are healthy, of course.

I have yearned for you for what seems like a long time. I never imagined that there would be a three-year gap between you and your brother.

Maybe I'd taken things for granted and this is the universe's way to remind me that I can't always get my way. Either way, I'm humbled that you've decided to come into my life.

When I lay on my death bed (at 99), one of my favorite memories ever will be the day I found out I was pregnant with you. It was the kind of moment that shakes you to your core and makes you believe in fate and in something bigger than you are.

In some ways, I guess that's what every parent wants for their child: to be bigger than them are and to make an impact on this sometimes tough world.

Welcome to our life, kid. I can't promise you perfection. But I can promise you that you will be loved as much as your brother and cheered on as much as he is and I will fill as many memory cards with your face as you let me.

Thank you for choosing me to be your Maman.




Jesse said...

I really enjoyed this letter and only wish I could write all my thoughts down the way you do. So as for the name when do you think you'll let the rest of us know.

Emma in Canada said...

Saoirse has a couple of letters I wrote when I was pregnant with her, but not a monthly one cause I'm not as good a mum as that.

Sorry about the morning sickness...hopefully it will pass quickly.

And you know I am so dying to know the name. Do tell.

AndreAnna said...

Ah yes, the name. You must tell those of us you feel won't stalk and kill you...

And as far as the morning sickness went, I thought it was going to be bad just like you did. I even wrote a post about how easy my pregnancy was with Charlotte and how I felt awesome and never puked, but how I felt like my head was perpetually in a toilet with this baby. I had two weeks of feeling like crap, right around 6-7 weeks, but all the nausea and such was gone by 8-9, so maybe there's hope!

Loukia said...

Awww.. just a beautiful post! :)

Wonderful World of Weiners said...

Your hiney is hormonal!! Why does that make me giggle uncontrollably? I feel like a little kid that laughs whenever he/she says wiener!!

Love it and your hiney!!

Hallie :)

Kathryn said...

You did it again! Funny AND sweet! Fabulous post!

Sandy said...

What a lucky baby to know that she is so loved already.

pam said...

I love love love your stories to your babies. Lucky kids they!!!

Kellie said...

Your monthly letters always make me laugh and get teary eyed. And this one to Baby #2? No different.


Daphne said...

so sweet!

head over to my blog for a little something-something for ya!


Rachel said...

I am always amazed when you can make me laugh and cry with one post!

Love this letter.

Burgh Baby's Mom said...

It's official: I want to be just like you when I grow up.

However, if you were my mom and you made me ingest that nasty crap for lunch? I'd kick you in the stomach until you vomited, too. GROSS!

Morgan Leigh said...

What a funny, sweet, cute letter. I bet it's a girl too. I hope so, because she will beat up her brother, lol. Lillie does all the time. teeheehee. :)

anglophilefootballfanatic said...

EWW. Your burger sounds disgusting. And, I can totally imagine him asking you if you're going potty. I hope SHE doesn't turn out to be one of those girls who beats up her big brother. That's not good for his street cred.

Katie said...

I think your monthly letter to the new baby is a fantastic idea! Oh, And I know what you mean about the sadness of vomiting up your favorite burger. Looking back on my second pregnancy last Fall, the first hint I received that I may be preggo was throwing up my 2/3 pound Fuddrucker cheeseburger only 20 minutes after it had found its new home in my tummy. FOR SOOTH... What a shame!!! (giggle)

Nina Diane said...

You always make me smile.....laugh and just make my day! and your letter to new baby...another great one. And you know what, you're probably right, she's going to give you a run for your money. And to's going to make for such awesome blogging!!

squishytushy said...

Damn, you're good. And for that, you will be just as good the 2nd time around! (For the record, when Emma was born I would take hours of video of her SLEEPING!!!!!) Cuz, uh... every so often she would twitch.

But, more importantly... that burger. Holy crap... I've actually copied down your topings. Never has something sounded so freakin' delicious!

Joy T. said...

I've always said morning sickness is good. It means the hormones are working and it's a good strong pregnancy. I know. I'm weird. But sometimes my bubble world is ok. This letter was so nice and something baby will cherish forever. I wish moms back in my day were smart enough to do this. All I took were pictures of my kids and even a lot of those suck.

Kellie said...

Hellooooo?! Where's an update? Something. Anything. Satan's Dog eating things. Little Man shouting from the rooftops that he loves chocolte. You and your poop habits.


random_mommy said...

Girl no doubt. Email me the name stat!!! I just know it'll be French and beautiful! I'm guessing Belle or Mignon.