Welcome to the world, Baby Boy, Part 1

First, I'm sorry I haven't written to you in so very long.  Please know that I was loving you and thinking of you and preparing for you every day!  When I was pregnant with your sister, I was free to rest whenever but the second time around is much harder in that regard.  She is, as of this writing, a very active, very chatty little person filled with light and energy, and keeping up with her and my work until nap time most days has been all that I could manage for the six to eight weeks.  I was just so ridiculously tired most days, but your dad was, as usual, very understanding, and took care of all sorts of things around here so I could rest as much as possible.

There's also not been much to write because pregnancy with you has been uneventful and pretty easy!  About 36 weeks or so, I had a touch of anemia, but I jumped right on that and improved it in just a couple weeks, and during the last few weeks, my blood pressure crept up a bit, which meant even more taking it easy, but otherwise, no real pains, no complications or concerns, easy peasy. Every now and then, I'd think, "How long has it been since he moved?!" and would panic a little bit and jostle you around.  Then you'd squirm in irritation, I'd breathe a big sigh of relief and we'd both go back to what we were doing.

And I think I've just been more introspective because as I mentioned before, this time I knew just how impossible it is to imagine how terrific you'd be when you actually arrived, and I was right!  So, while I still remember things, let me tell you what that was like....

The week of November 11th, I wasn't feeling great.  Not really bad - just some bouts of false labor (three hours of that on Sunday night) and feeling tired and sore.  More than a few mornings, I'd had to lie in bed for a few minutes before getting up, just mentally encouraging myself that I could, in fact, get through another day.  Most days, by the time I lugged your sister up the stairs for her nap, I was counting the steps as I went and I'd come back downstairs and collapse for a bit.

I'd been managing to rally a bit in the evenings, get some work done, get up before your dad got home, start dinner, play with Nora..., and Thursday evening wasn't any different.  I made pancakes for dinner (easy and leftovers to freeze for later), talked to your grandfather just after dinner, around 7:00, because he'd been calling every day, multiple times a day to ask me if I felt labor was imminent.  (Do not ask a woman this.  She doesn't necessarily know.  People kept telling me that I'd know when it was time, but I really didn't, or at least I didn't know hours and hours in advance.  If I knew anything useful, I'd have shared it!)  Then I read to your sister after her bath, and during stories, I had a few contractions and was mentally preparing myself for an evening of false labor, thinking that it would likely get better if I got up and moved a little bit.  (For some reason, I never expected you'd arrive early.)  Because we thought it was likely that I'd have a quick labor, your dad texted Amy, our midwife, to let her know that I was having some random contractions, just so she could be on alert, and he made sure we were all set to fill the birthing tub when the time came....

Autumn Right Around the Corner

I've been telling Nora that when the leaves fall off the trees and it turns cold and frosty that you'll be here with us, and every day now, a few more dry leaves drift down in the driveway. Conveniently, as of July 31, you'd been growing for 170 days, so that means that as of today, you've only got roughly 73 days to go! 73 days doesn't sound so bad, but 10 weeks sounds pretty scary and I'm trying very hard to get lots of things done so that when you get here, we won't have to worry about anything. Looking forward to snuggling up with you in snowy December and not needing to worry about much besides feeding you, feeding us, and getting all of us to get some sleep. According to your dad, you've reached butternut squash status in there. (He loves his weekly emails that let him know what you're up to and he keeps me updated on your various fruit/vegetable stages, minus all the stuff that would make me antsy about things I haven't done yet....) This must mean you have plenty of room to wiggle still, because most nights between 10:00 and 11:30 or so, you rassle around, punching and shoving with your elbows and your little feet, working as hard to get comfortable as I am. But generally, you're pretty peaceful. Hiccups don't seem to disturb your rest, although occasionally I dump some cold water or hot tea on top of you, which doesn't seem to be appreciated. Sorry about that. I'm pretty tired pretty often now, so most afternoons, you and I settle down for at least a half an hour together, just to think quiet thoughts and talk to each other a bit. I like thinking about what you're up to in there and what you'll be like and how much better you'll be than anything I can think of, but I realized that after having your sister - we put so much faith in our imaginations, but in reality, they are so painfully, disappointingly limited. You'll be so much more and so much better and so much more everything than I could even hope to be able to conjure up, so I just mostly content myself with thinking cozy thoughts of you resting and snuggling and waiting. And at night, you listen to Charlotte's Web sometimes as we're drifting off to sleep. I listened to E.B. White read so much when I was little that his voice is pretty much permanently associated with peacefully dozing off in my mind. In my spare time, I've been working on piecing a little quilt for you, with some plans to work on a little hat and a crocheted blanket too. Mostly, everything is here, just waiting for you, and so am I! Love, Mama

Nora - Turning Two

On this day two years ago, I spent all day waiting, waiting, waiting, not knowing what was going to happen or who was going to join our little family or how I'd come to feel about this person. And now, here you are, and every single day, I'm astounded and amused and amazed by who you are, Nora Bean. You are light and sunshine, you are endless smiles and endless chatter, and while your father and I had a life we enjoyed when it was just the two of us, we both cannot imagine how we could have lived our whole lives in a world without knowing you. At two, you know your alphabet, all your colors, can count to 30 (mostly - some of those teens are tricky numbers), sing little songs and chatter to yourself nonstop about all sorts of things. Last night at dinner, you told us a wonderful story about going to the grocery store to ride in the blue carpet (you mean cart, but say carpet), where we'd visit loud fish with lots of loud golden water going by and you were going to stand right there on the edge! (Very emphatic about that part.) You like red, you love snuggling with your kitty cats, you are interested in bugs and snakes and spiders and any bird or animal you see ("talk more about crickets!" or "talk more about frogs!" is something I hear a lot.) You enjoy books and pictures of babies, you currently love all things Frances and Little Grey Rabbit and although you've only seen a few minutes of him on television, you dearly love Elmo. And the garbageman, who, you are sure, wants to come and play blocks and hang out with you and Donald Duck and Chip and Dale. You've had a great morning today! We decided that getting you wound up at the end of the day wasn't a good idea, so you got your presents this morning. Poppy and Granny sent you a red tricycle that you've been pushing around the living room (I'm pretty sure figuring out the bell is only a matter of time...) and some money for your savings account, and Uncle Kelly and Aunt Mary sent you an Elmo book, a stuffed Elmo, an Elmo toothbrush, two very sweet long-sleeved shirts, and an Elmo card. Mama and Daddy continued our tradition of getting you a charm (last year, you got the Tiffany charm bracelet and a little bean) and this year's charm is a little "I love to read" book, because you certainly do. We got you some animal toys and a few new books, including Little Grey Rabbit's Birthday, and tonight, there will be, per your request, "chocolate birthday cake with lots of candles." I just wanted to take a moment to tell you how much we love you, how delightful it's been to watch you change and grow, and what a privilege it is to have you with us. Happy birthday, sweet girl - Mama hopes the light that's in you today will be with you always....

Midway

Almost a month has gone by and things change every day. Nora, you are the most delightful, talkative little person. You race around in your diaper, you shout, "Mama give it big hug!" and grab onto me, you do a funny little dance that's like clogging, and you're fascinated by animals and nature and all sorts of things, just everything. You learn new words each and every day, and you love big words - quesadilla, dictionary, President Obama, alphabet. If you had your way, I would read one of your picture dictionaries to you over and over and over again, just taking the occasional break for a Frances book or one of Bonny Becker's Bear and Mouse books. (You cracked us all up last week when we were on vacation with Granny and Poppy by shouting, "Impossible! Intolerable! Insufferable!") As your daddy regularly says, you are hi-larious. Right now, you are in your bed, not sleeping and, for some reason, clapping and shouting, "Yay!" Happy, happy girl....

And you chat more and more about being a big sister and babies. You like to talk to my tummy and occasionally want to pull my shirt up to give it a pat or just to say hello.

Bip, you are moving on toward spaghetti squash status apparently. Eyelids, eyebrows, lips - you are a busy, busy baby! And you are apparently feeling up to checking out your new digs, because there's been a whole lot of wiggling going on in there. Daddy's even been able to feel some of your little thumps from time to time. We're crazy busy, but I do my best to find some time each afternoon to put my feet up while your sister naps and just hang out with you for a bit. I enjoy your little Morse code taps and talk to you and pat you and just think quiet thoughts. Hope you're enjoying your accommodations, and we can hardly believe that we're past the halfway point, that you'll be here before we know it!

Love and kisses,
Mama

Good Intentions

A few "quiet" moments. Nora, you're "reading" aloud to yourself, apparently very amused by a picture of a "haccoon" you discovered, and songs are playing because you love music. Bip (our "Baby in Progress") you are being very still and peaceful, and apparently, are the size of an avocado and working on growing toenails, an important task that I'm sure you're giving your full attention.

And we are busy getting ready for your arrival! Nora, when you were coming, the house wasn't at all baby-ready, so there was so much to do - finish the kitchen, remodel the bathroom (I remember crying and thinking there was no way I could put a sweet little baby in our old, grungy, stained tub), getting your room ready, and just generally doing all the things that we wouldn't have a chance to do for years after you arrived. Now, it's more about putting the finishing touches on projects, tidying up all the things we've not been able to keep up with, and just generally getting ready to descend into the black hole that is the first few months with a new baby.

I also want to write to you both openly about the struggles I had postpartum the last time. It was, in retrospect, a terrible time in every other way. Your grandmother had just passed away and I missed her so much, the house was in uproar with both bathroom and kitchen in progress (and things from both packed in tubs that wouldn't be completely unpacked for almost another year) so everywhere I looked was chaos, our sweet cat Elvis was in the process of dying by inches in the bathroom and I couldn't help him, and your daddy was immersed in one of the biggest, most important projects he'd ever had with the exhibition and, after years of doing all our work together, I couldn't help him either. And I was all alone. It was a very lonely time, because he was so busy, we didn't have many friends here who weren't busy with their own lives, and we didn't really have any visitors. When Nora was a week old, Daddy went back to work and that was it. Our friend Chelsea brought a meal once, your grandfathers, aunts and uncles all visited once, and otherwise, for more than the first six months, it was just the two of us so much of the time. Some days, Daddy left early and got back late and I didn't eat all day, because I was nursing so much and just so tired or too sad to take care of myself. Some nights, I had panic attacks at the thought of another day all alone, of all that would be required of me and of the thought of how little I was convinced I had to offer.

This time, I want to make sure that I don't scar any of us any further. I was angry and scared and alone and I cried a lot. I even got to the point where I was beginning to see things and to think that maybe it would be better for you, Nora, if you'd gotten another mama. But, and this is the most important part, YOU were what sustained me. I know for many women (and my heart breaks for them), they can't connect with their babies, making them feel even worse, but for me, you were my tiny life preserver and I just held as tightly to you as I could. Knowing what it meant not to have a mother made me determined to continue being your mother, even if I vanished in the effort, which I was afraid of sometimes, but you got me through.

But I think we can do better this time, so we're making a better plan. We hope to have house help, so things will be tidy and Daddy will be free to help more and to keep things as consistent for Nora as possible while Bip needs to eat all the time. We've set aside some money to make sure that we can easily just spend the money on takeout as well, so that we're all eating well and not worrying about finances. I'll keep seeing Peg, who helped me back on my feet the last time, and we're working with different midwives this time, where there's a more comprehensive, holistic view of care - if I can take better care of me, I can, I hope, take better care of both of you. And, of course, Daddy hopes to be able to take more time off, to work from home occasionally, and to just be around while we find our feet.

I hesitated to write honestly of this for you both. I don't anticipate you reading these things for many years, and I'd hate for either one of you to feel responsible or guilty or even afraid of having your own children because of this. But I want to tell you the truth and, if I'm not with you for some reason, I want you to know that struggling with a new baby isn't something that makes you abnormal, at least any more than your mama is. :) It was hard for me, and I don't think I've ever felt more alone, so much so that I tear up a little just writing this, thinking of how bad I feel for the me that went through that. If nothing else, Nora, I hope you'll remember that you preserved me the first time, and Bip, that we wanted you enough (more than enough) to risk a second trip to that dark place. I want you both to know that bad things happen, even sometimes as good things are happening too, and that what makes us better people is that we persevere, that we walk through dark places for the people we love (and because that love and their love for us make it possible), and we do our best to learn from that going forward and be different, stronger people. Because of losing my own mama so early, I'm always afraid of leaving you both before you're "ready," (there is, by the way, no "ready" for being without your mother), but if all I teach you is this, I know you'll manage without me.

And now, I'm going to go enjoy some of that joyful mothering time. Nora, you are munching pretzels and itching for me to come read a huge stack of books to you (and reciting part of an alphabet book!), and Bip, while I can't feel you kicking yet, I can feel the water around you swish as you wriggle, so I'm going to go cuddle up on the couch with both my babies and love you.

Love and kisses,
Mama

Window on the World

Or "Window on Your World," rather. On April 19 (which was the same day we got our second glimpse of your sister), we got to see you for the first time! On the surface, it wasn't as reflective as I'd have liked, because your sister was hustling around the waiting room, into this, into that, spinning the rolling stool, but even with all that, the first moment I saw you, everything in my heart got quiet and still, and I thought, "Ohhh, hello...." There's a wonder in seeing you that's like, well, I hope you'll not think this irreverent, because I hope you'll come to know what a beautiful book it is, but there's something in glimpsing you that's akin to Wilbur's wonder with the little spiders in Charlotte's Web, just a magical, calm, heart-stopping moment. I'm afraid you'll think that it's not new or marvelous or incredible any longer, and that's just so wrong - it's miraculous. YOU are miraculous, even now, with your tiny silent self bobbing in a dark sea. Every day, I find a few moments to just be still, to speak to you in my heart, to let you know how much we'd love you already. I can't believe how quickly the first three months have gone - the end of the first trimester is coming up in just a week or so. (Okay, ten days - I'm counting.) I've not been sick even once, and the nausea, which was so bad before, hasn't been difficult to manage at all. I've been tired though, so very, very tired. Not sleepy tired really, or not so much, but physically fatigued. My arms feel like lead in the afternoons and I think about the possibility of crawling to the kitchen. Your sister's taking it easy on me as well, for the most part, so that helps. She takes nice, long naps every afternoon, and while some days it seems like a reeeeeally long time until 2:00, she rests well and consistently, so I can have a few moments before I start work to gather myself, talk to you and rest a bit. We've been traveling a lot, which has left me tired too, but I'm resting up now, trying to feed you good food, and just generally find time each day to be your mama. So looking forward to having the job in person!

Holy Crap on a Cracker, Part Two

Well, "you" won't just mean you any longer, Nora Bean. You're about to get a sibling in seven months or so, so for this particular post, "you" is going to be the other you, the one growing just now....

"Holy crap on a cracker!" is what I thought when I found out we were expecting your sister. Somehow, and maybe it's just because it's early yet (only about nine weeks), I'm not feeling as terrified as the prospect of your arrival. I'm actually looking forward to doing all those things over again and not being so afraid while I do them! Of course, you'll be your own person and you'll not like the same things or behave the same way, but when your sister arrived, I had probably not changed four diapers in my life, had no friends I could call who had breastfed exclusively, and just generally didn't know what I was doing. Hopefully, I'll have a little better sense of what I'm doing this time around.


Your uncle will empathize with you for life, because as the second child, he swears there are no photographs of him, no stories, that he has very few baby things that weren't mine first, that his baby book is a complete blank. But I'm going to promise you something up front - I'm going to do my best to make you know that your arrival is just as special and as exciting as hers was. This will be hard for you to understand maybe, but her arrival will always be special because she was first, and that arrival was filled with fear and anxiety and expectations and anticipation, but your arrival will always be special because I knew just how much work it would entail and didn't mind at all, it will just be the anticipation and the excitement - that wasn't the case the first time around, because I had no idea what I was getting into and I spent so much time afraid and nervous. Two things can be different and still be equally wonderful - sun and rain, chocolate and mashed potatoes, books and movies - and know in your hearts that your mama loved you from the very first for being just who you were to her, just what your sister was to her: her special baby.

I've had moms tell me that they were afraid they couldn't possibly love a second child as much (of course, they quickly learn how wrong they are), but I've not had a glimmer, even a trace of that - I'm full of confidence that you will bring love into the world with you, love that I didn't know existed before your sister arrived, but that it will be a special love that's just for you. I can't tell you how much I'm excited to meet you and hold you and kiss you, to welcome discovering yet again how much more love there is in the world than we can ever possibly know until we experience it. So stay warm and cozy in there, think peaceful thoughts, and try to ignore your sister clambering all over you when she wants a story - you'll get to pay her back and eventually you'll want me to read "The Gingerbread Man" to you 900 times in a row too. Love, Mama....

Simple Gifts

Your language development continues to astound me. In the space of a few weeks, you've gone from the occasional two-word phrase (most commonly, "Guys, shhhhh!" for squabbling cats...) to regularly stringing words together to try them out. "Daddy home back soon" and "bye see bit" are common, along with little phrases like, "Flop puddle" (from a pig in a story) and "Fluffy tail," but this evening, just before bath time, a big storm moved through. The sky got dark, thunder was rattling the windows, and the front door was open when the rain finally started pouring down in that wonderful white noise rush that a hard rain brings. I took you over to the door and was talking to you about the rain, explaining that it came from the clouds (you know roughly what they are) and that it's the way that the grass and the trees and the flowers get a drink. You worked all these words over in your mouth like marbles, rolling them around and trying to fit them together in various ways, "Trees water drink rain, grass drink water flowers," and just on and on, trying out all the ways they could go together. You were just fascinated, by the downpour and the noise and the idea that the earth was getting a drink. I pulled a box over for you to sit on so you could see out the door, and you just perched there, peeking over the kick panel of the door, watching the rain and talking to it. After awhile, you slipped down, rooted around for a book, came back, scrambled up on your box, and sat, just listening and reading to yourself, like you wanted to be near the rain. Your peacefulness is a beautiful thing to behold and such a gift to all of us....

Heart on Legs

You walked yesterday. You were kind of like Dumbo with his magic feather and just forgot that you couldn't do it all on your own and took off! Then you immediately sat down. I tried to coax you into doing a little more of it, but mostly, we had a game that involved you speed crawling across the living room and giggling like a maniac while I darted away from you and tried to get you to walk back to me. But that's not why I'm writing.

I'm writing because you're in your chair, eating your lunch. You have peanut butter all over your face and hands and cup and tray, so much that you just stopped drinking for a minute to lick your cup. Your little eyes are heavy-lidded because you didn't take much of a nap this morning and all this thinking about walking has worn you out. Your jammies are fuzzy at the knees from crawling. You're singing "Mom-me, Mom-me, Mom-me" over and over to your peanut butter cracker and smiling like you're lit with a 100-watt bulb and idly dabbing peanut butter on the arms of the windsor chair. It's been a pretty typical day so far, an ordinary "same old, same old" day, I suppose - oatmeal with jam and playing and wrestling on the couch - and about twenty stories, including five readings of Don't Let the Pigeon Stay Up Late! But I am writing this to tell you that I am so incredibly in love with you and your messiness and your noise and your dirty jammies and your deep love for just one book at a time. And I wanted you to know....