A Letter To My Firstborn

I was going through some things that I wrote in the past and came across this letter I wrote to Marc while I was pregnant with Rachael.

Marc is one tough cookie but our relationship has been much better lately.  Translation: I am doing a better job of emotionally handling his behavior.  This letter is a sweet reminder of my "early love" for my boy.  Sometimes that is a really nice emotion to visit.

I thought you might enjoy it as you are waiting to hear who won the contest.

It’s begun, but it’s different than I thought it would be.  The morning sickness is different, I’m so tired but I’m not as big as I thought I’d be at this point and time is flying.  Mostly though, I’m much more relaxed.  I guess it’s sort of a “been there, done that” attitude I have, but I think the main reason is that I already have you.  My arms aren’t empty like they were when I was waiting for you.  It seems like a lifetime ago, but then I get choked up thinking about how fast it’s already gone.  You’re already so smart, and so funny. 

And so big. 

But you’re still my baby, at least for a little while.  And I find myself wanting you to play that role for me – one you’re so happy to do.  I hold you like a baby and cuddle you close and kiss you all over and call you my baby and you love it.  You’re learning to swim and you call yourself my “baby guppy”.  But you’re getting big.

Six days ago we said bye-bye to Nummy.  That’s the left side.  We still can have Num – the right side – but “Nummy doesn’t work anymore.”  You ask, “Can we try?” and I always answer that there is no more milk and it would hurt Mommy.  You’re content with Num.  You’ve just turned two, but you can count to 20 because that’s how many seconds I allow you to nurse still.  Then you ask for “water and a snuggle.” 

You used to say when you got hurt, “I need nummy nummy to feel better.”  The other day you fell and said, “I need juice to feel better.”  I died a little then.  Sometimes, when you’re situated right and it doesn’t hurt I’ll let you nurse to fall asleep instead of counting.  I don’t do it for you though.  I do it so I can soak in your smell and your little fingers resting across my chest and feel your still baby soft hair.  I do it for me.

You’ve recently learned the word “favorite” and have had fun trying it out.  So, a couple weeks ago, I called you “my favorite”.  I knew this wasn’t really healthy though, with a new sibling coming and all, so I added your name to the end of the sentence.  After all, that will always remain true.  Tonight, right before you went to sleep you mumbled, “I love you Mommy.”  I couldn’t help it, I cried.

I have no doubts that when this new one comes and I hold a tiny body again – one that came from my own, it will once again overtake me.  When all that new little human knows and needs are my soft arms and warm milk my heart will break into a million more pieces and a floodgate of love that I can’t imagine right now having a capacity for will wash over me.  Love that gives me guilty thoughts like, “I never even loved your Daddy like this” will pour out until I can barely breath.  Then the new one will be fully mine too – just like you became mine in the same way.

Until then though, you really are my favorite.