Thursday, December 15, 2011
Letter 24
Dearest Peapod,
Your birthday is now past, and I cannot yet fathom I am the mommy to a 1 year old. Gone are the days of holding you in my arms to rock you to sleep. The days of your adventures have begun. Seeking out the dangers and gifts of this world, you walk gracefully in my shadow, following where I lead. I know I must set the example, yet I fear the example you see. Although I realize I am less than perfect, and my God forgives my shortcomings, I despair at the thought you might only see my faults. I pray, for your sake, you are more like YOU, and less like me. You are so incredibly innocent and trusting; I am so very damaged and unable to trust. You seek the comfort of all; I find no comfort. You realize you are not always in control and need help; I refuse to believe I am not in control nor can I ask for help. As the years continue to pass for you my sweet sprout, I hope you never change.
I love you my innocent pea,
Mommy
Your birthday is now past, and I cannot yet fathom I am the mommy to a 1 year old. Gone are the days of holding you in my arms to rock you to sleep. The days of your adventures have begun. Seeking out the dangers and gifts of this world, you walk gracefully in my shadow, following where I lead. I know I must set the example, yet I fear the example you see. Although I realize I am less than perfect, and my God forgives my shortcomings, I despair at the thought you might only see my faults. I pray, for your sake, you are more like YOU, and less like me. You are so incredibly innocent and trusting; I am so very damaged and unable to trust. You seek the comfort of all; I find no comfort. You realize you are not always in control and need help; I refuse to believe I am not in control nor can I ask for help. As the years continue to pass for you my sweet sprout, I hope you never change.
I love you my innocent pea,
Mommy
Monday, November 28, 2011
Letter 23
My dearest Peapod,
With Thanksgiving sadly behind us, I am reminded once again of the power of prayer. I hope I am able to teach you about the open lines of communication to Jesus. I hope I am able to show you the way to a true Friend, Healer, Companion, and Redeemer through prayer. Too often we, as humans, only pray when we are lost and looking for You to guide us on our way. We plead for Your mercy in situations we realize are out of our control. We ask for Your abundant giving, neglecting to offer You thanks for the blessings You richly bless us with each and every day. I am guilty of these things, my sweet youngling. Sadly, I find myself deep in prayer when I need His help and not nearly enough in giving thanks for what He has provided. Although I know in 1 Thessalonians 5:17, we are commanded to "Pray without ceasing," He does not stop there. We are also commanded, "In everything, give thanks, for this is the will of Jesus Christ concerning you," (1 Thessalonians 5:18). All through my pregancy, I prayed for your health. I prayed for a safe and painless (or as painless as possible) delivery. I prayed our families would journey to the hospital safely for your arrival. I prayed all of these things, asking Him once again to do MY will. Yet, I know that today, I have not thanked Him for my safe travel to deliver you safely to the sitter's home. I know today I have not thanked Him for the opportunity to hear you laugh this morning. After all, it was His will we were granted the time to spend with one another this morning.
I am thankful for each moment He grants me to spend with you, and it's time I told Him.
I love you my sweet blessing,
Mommy
With Thanksgiving sadly behind us, I am reminded once again of the power of prayer. I hope I am able to teach you about the open lines of communication to Jesus. I hope I am able to show you the way to a true Friend, Healer, Companion, and Redeemer through prayer. Too often we, as humans, only pray when we are lost and looking for You to guide us on our way. We plead for Your mercy in situations we realize are out of our control. We ask for Your abundant giving, neglecting to offer You thanks for the blessings You richly bless us with each and every day. I am guilty of these things, my sweet youngling. Sadly, I find myself deep in prayer when I need His help and not nearly enough in giving thanks for what He has provided. Although I know in 1 Thessalonians 5:17, we are commanded to "Pray without ceasing," He does not stop there. We are also commanded, "In everything, give thanks, for this is the will of Jesus Christ concerning you," (1 Thessalonians 5:18). All through my pregancy, I prayed for your health. I prayed for a safe and painless (or as painless as possible) delivery. I prayed our families would journey to the hospital safely for your arrival. I prayed all of these things, asking Him once again to do MY will. Yet, I know that today, I have not thanked Him for my safe travel to deliver you safely to the sitter's home. I know today I have not thanked Him for the opportunity to hear you laugh this morning. After all, it was His will we were granted the time to spend with one another this morning.
I am thankful for each moment He grants me to spend with you, and it's time I told Him.
I love you my sweet blessing,
Mommy
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Letter 22
Dear Peapod,
Each Mommy finds amazement and sadness in each of their child's "firsts." For me, I placed a great importance on all of your first holidays. I have a onesie, shirt, or bib (in some cases, all of the above) for each of the holidays you experienced for the first time, as well as the memory in dressing you. Your first Christmas was also your first holiday (not counting your glorious birthday), and to say you didn't welcome Christmas night is an understatement. You were so tired, and your little tummy pained you so that you cried through most of the dinner, all of the gift opening, and finally cried yourself to sleep. Your exhausted parents passed you back and forth, hiding in your Grammy and PawPaw's bedroom, trying to quiet your sobs. Your Grammy finally came in to trade shifts, and miraculously she silenced your wails and walked you right to sleep. She's always been a source of great comfort to babies of ALL ages (hint hint!). Your first New Year's was spent the same way, and I began to think you just didn't like holidays--but then the season of love that arrives in February changed that. Dressed in red with pink hearts, you were the reason for the love in our home. You were holding your head up on your own, beginning to recognize faces, and it broke my heart when our daily trips of cuddling came to an end as I had to return to work. Your first St. Patrick's day, I had two outfits for you to wear, so I had to change you to get pictures in both. You looked so pretty in green! You had started to roll over just in time for Grammy's birthday on the 25th. Your first Easter was truly a joy. Your NaNa bought you a beautiful purple dress that you spit up all over, but not before we took tons of pictures. You went on your first Easter egg hunt with Daddy, trying to beat Mackenzie to all of the eggs. You spent the afternoon spitting up all over your PawPaw--it seemed every time he got himself cleaned up, you would douse him all over again! Your first Memorial Day was truly your first day of independence--you got your ears pierced! Well, I guess it really wasn't independent since I made the decision for you--but you barely even cried. You were already so strong my sweet girl. Your first 4th of July was spent with your NaNa and Pappy, and you had started sitting up by yourself. We put you in an inflattable swimming pool for the first time, and you were the cutest little tadpole! Your swimsuit, so tiny--I didn't think there was any way you would fit into it, but it fit you perfectly. You splashed and played, already such a big girl. Here we are, with the passing of your first Halloween. We had to trick-or-treat with both sets of grandparents, so you were able to wear Tinkerbell the first night, but your Grammy in her wise shopping was able to find you a Peapod outfit! I can't tell you the smile you brought to my face:) On Halloween night, you walked with the rest of the big kids right up to the homes to show off your costume and trick-or-treat, and no one remembered ever seeing such a magnificent Tinkerbell. You are such a blessing to your Daddy and me. I am quick to realize there's only one more first holiday for you, and it's fitting your last "first" holiday is Thanksgiving. It's a reminder of how thankful I am for the year I have spent with you, the rich gift given to me by Him that I did not deserve but that I cherish with each fleeting moment.
I love you my blessing, my first peapod!
Mommy
Each Mommy finds amazement and sadness in each of their child's "firsts." For me, I placed a great importance on all of your first holidays. I have a onesie, shirt, or bib (in some cases, all of the above) for each of the holidays you experienced for the first time, as well as the memory in dressing you. Your first Christmas was also your first holiday (not counting your glorious birthday), and to say you didn't welcome Christmas night is an understatement. You were so tired, and your little tummy pained you so that you cried through most of the dinner, all of the gift opening, and finally cried yourself to sleep. Your exhausted parents passed you back and forth, hiding in your Grammy and PawPaw's bedroom, trying to quiet your sobs. Your Grammy finally came in to trade shifts, and miraculously she silenced your wails and walked you right to sleep. She's always been a source of great comfort to babies of ALL ages (hint hint!). Your first New Year's was spent the same way, and I began to think you just didn't like holidays--but then the season of love that arrives in February changed that. Dressed in red with pink hearts, you were the reason for the love in our home. You were holding your head up on your own, beginning to recognize faces, and it broke my heart when our daily trips of cuddling came to an end as I had to return to work. Your first St. Patrick's day, I had two outfits for you to wear, so I had to change you to get pictures in both. You looked so pretty in green! You had started to roll over just in time for Grammy's birthday on the 25th. Your first Easter was truly a joy. Your NaNa bought you a beautiful purple dress that you spit up all over, but not before we took tons of pictures. You went on your first Easter egg hunt with Daddy, trying to beat Mackenzie to all of the eggs. You spent the afternoon spitting up all over your PawPaw--it seemed every time he got himself cleaned up, you would douse him all over again! Your first Memorial Day was truly your first day of independence--you got your ears pierced! Well, I guess it really wasn't independent since I made the decision for you--but you barely even cried. You were already so strong my sweet girl. Your first 4th of July was spent with your NaNa and Pappy, and you had started sitting up by yourself. We put you in an inflattable swimming pool for the first time, and you were the cutest little tadpole! Your swimsuit, so tiny--I didn't think there was any way you would fit into it, but it fit you perfectly. You splashed and played, already such a big girl. Here we are, with the passing of your first Halloween. We had to trick-or-treat with both sets of grandparents, so you were able to wear Tinkerbell the first night, but your Grammy in her wise shopping was able to find you a Peapod outfit! I can't tell you the smile you brought to my face:) On Halloween night, you walked with the rest of the big kids right up to the homes to show off your costume and trick-or-treat, and no one remembered ever seeing such a magnificent Tinkerbell. You are such a blessing to your Daddy and me. I am quick to realize there's only one more first holiday for you, and it's fitting your last "first" holiday is Thanksgiving. It's a reminder of how thankful I am for the year I have spent with you, the rich gift given to me by Him that I did not deserve but that I cherish with each fleeting moment.
I love you my blessing, my first peapod!
Mommy
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
The Sprout Grows into Mommy's clothes!
Letter 21
My dearest Sprout,
I must stop reading blog posts of my friends as their words and stories fill me with a void I can only fill when you are safely tucked in my arms. And alas, as a working mommy, I can't call out to you during working hours and see you stumble into my arms. Instead, I live though text messages, videos, and pictures that your sitter so graciously sends to me. I long to be teaching you God's world through crafts, books, and song. But, it's during these lonely times when I must remind myself of the times we do share together. You are walking now and becoming more brave with each step. The Lord has blessed me with such a loving child. I marvel at you as you stretch your arms out to loved ones so that they, too, can experience the miracle of you close to their beating hearts. There is no greater sound than hearing you call for your Mama. That's ME--I'm your Mama.
Tasked with the responsibility of cleaning out your drawers to pack the small clothes and replace them with larger items, I cried. How is it that my Peapod sprouted so quickly? Through my blubbering sobs, your Daddy reminded me of the blessing that comes with your growth--it means you are healthy. We prayed nightly that the Lord would richly bless us with a healthy baby. On December 8, He did. He gave you to us to raise and watch grow in hopes that we would teach you about His merciful love and grace--and my Maddie Grace, we aim to do just that. So, continue to grow my sweet Sprout. I love you at all times, not just when we are together. Your next lesson from your Mama is coming soon.
I love you my growing sprout,
Mommy
I must stop reading blog posts of my friends as their words and stories fill me with a void I can only fill when you are safely tucked in my arms. And alas, as a working mommy, I can't call out to you during working hours and see you stumble into my arms. Instead, I live though text messages, videos, and pictures that your sitter so graciously sends to me. I long to be teaching you God's world through crafts, books, and song. But, it's during these lonely times when I must remind myself of the times we do share together. You are walking now and becoming more brave with each step. The Lord has blessed me with such a loving child. I marvel at you as you stretch your arms out to loved ones so that they, too, can experience the miracle of you close to their beating hearts. There is no greater sound than hearing you call for your Mama. That's ME--I'm your Mama.
Tasked with the responsibility of cleaning out your drawers to pack the small clothes and replace them with larger items, I cried. How is it that my Peapod sprouted so quickly? Through my blubbering sobs, your Daddy reminded me of the blessing that comes with your growth--it means you are healthy. We prayed nightly that the Lord would richly bless us with a healthy baby. On December 8, He did. He gave you to us to raise and watch grow in hopes that we would teach you about His merciful love and grace--and my Maddie Grace, we aim to do just that. So, continue to grow my sweet Sprout. I love you at all times, not just when we are together. Your next lesson from your Mama is coming soon.
I love you my growing sprout,
Mommy
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Letter 20
My dearest Peapod,
Rather than calling you my "peapod," I realize in your maturity I should rename you, "sprout." No longer are you this tiny pea to be carted from place to place. No longer are you the dependent baby, always in need of your parents gentle hands and kind encouragement. Indeed, you no longer need encouragement AT ALL. Not only are you crawling (everywhere might I add), but you are pulling up on every piece of furniture as if it is a lifeline to the next chapter of your life. Sweetly, you believe you must taste everything, furniture included. So, you quickly open your mouth, place it against the furniture item, and once in place, you lock your hands at the top and pull with all of your might. One wobbly knee is pulled into the standing position until you stand, erect, and begin to clap because you know what a sprout you have become. Yet, the overconfidence in your ability to stand firm gets you every time as you quickly fall to the ground below. But have no fear, once the shockwave of fear passes, you begin the ascent just as quick.
I watched you chase Sammy around the coffee table last night--poor puppy didn't know what to think about the baby quick on his tail. The days of the peapod are over--welcome home Sprout!
I love you my darling veggie!
Mommy
Rather than calling you my "peapod," I realize in your maturity I should rename you, "sprout." No longer are you this tiny pea to be carted from place to place. No longer are you the dependent baby, always in need of your parents gentle hands and kind encouragement. Indeed, you no longer need encouragement AT ALL. Not only are you crawling (everywhere might I add), but you are pulling up on every piece of furniture as if it is a lifeline to the next chapter of your life. Sweetly, you believe you must taste everything, furniture included. So, you quickly open your mouth, place it against the furniture item, and once in place, you lock your hands at the top and pull with all of your might. One wobbly knee is pulled into the standing position until you stand, erect, and begin to clap because you know what a sprout you have become. Yet, the overconfidence in your ability to stand firm gets you every time as you quickly fall to the ground below. But have no fear, once the shockwave of fear passes, you begin the ascent just as quick.
I watched you chase Sammy around the coffee table last night--poor puppy didn't know what to think about the baby quick on his tail. The days of the peapod are over--welcome home Sprout!
I love you my darling veggie!
Mommy
Friday, July 22, 2011
Letter 19
My dearest peapod,
How do you melt my heart? Let me count the ways:
1. Your belly laugh warms my soul.
2. Your independence reminds me you truly are a woman after my own heart.
3. Your arms reaching for me as if to say you are mine capture my breath.
4. Your grey eyes, already so full of wisdom and love, mirror my own.
5. Your cry weakens my resolve to give you space.
6. Your soft locks tickle your cute ears so that you pull at them.
7. Your babble makes me think of the conversations we will have in the future.
I could go on and on, but all that really matters is that I love you my sweet baby. I love you, your father loves you, your family loves you. May you continue to grow with the knowledge of our love tucked safely in your heart. You are ours like we are yours.
I love you my sweet baby woman,
Mommy
How do you melt my heart? Let me count the ways:
1. Your belly laugh warms my soul.
2. Your independence reminds me you truly are a woman after my own heart.
3. Your arms reaching for me as if to say you are mine capture my breath.
4. Your grey eyes, already so full of wisdom and love, mirror my own.
5. Your cry weakens my resolve to give you space.
6. Your soft locks tickle your cute ears so that you pull at them.
7. Your babble makes me think of the conversations we will have in the future.
I could go on and on, but all that really matters is that I love you my sweet baby. I love you, your father loves you, your family loves you. May you continue to grow with the knowledge of our love tucked safely in your heart. You are ours like we are yours.
I love you my sweet baby woman,
Friday, June 24, 2011
Letter 18
Dearest Peapod,
The amazement continues. Now mobile, you roll from one side of your playmat to the other as if it doesn't phase you. Lucky enough, Ms. Barbara caught it on video so I could watch from the coldness of my office as your journey in life continues. Your father and I now call you the secret roller--you wait until neither of us is paying attention, then you quickly roll away and begin to whine, as if to say, "Hey! Look at what I just did and you're not paying attention!" Yet, I know it won't be long and you won't have to whine--you'll be tapping me on the ankle because you've crawled to me. I have to admit, though, it may not be me you crawl to since lately, you can't bear the idea of leaving your proud Daddy's arms. For Father's Day last weekend, you gifted him with books for the two of you to become engrossed in and shoes so he could keep up with you. Yesterday, as we watched you play in your jumper, tears of overwhelming joy sprang to your Daddy's eyes. Never to be the sentimental one, your Daddy quickly brushed them away. But, as the bond between father and daughter grows, I am reminded of my own father. It's no secret my father is one of few words, and because of that, I feel like there is always so much I want to say that goes unsaid. So, to celebrate my own father on Father's Day, I hid a card in his driver bag that said everything in my heart so there was never a question as to how I loved my Daddy. He may not be able to tell me how he feels, either in verbally or in a letter, but I can rest easily knowing he knows how I feel. The bond between Daddy and his Little Girl is so incredibly special, and I am so grateful to have experienced it with my Dad, and now I get to watch this remarkable bond between my Peapod and her Daddy. I'm so richly blessed!
I love you my Daddy's Girl,
Mommy
The amazement continues. Now mobile, you roll from one side of your playmat to the other as if it doesn't phase you. Lucky enough, Ms. Barbara caught it on video so I could watch from the coldness of my office as your journey in life continues. Your father and I now call you the secret roller--you wait until neither of us is paying attention, then you quickly roll away and begin to whine, as if to say, "Hey! Look at what I just did and you're not paying attention!" Yet, I know it won't be long and you won't have to whine--you'll be tapping me on the ankle because you've crawled to me. I have to admit, though, it may not be me you crawl to since lately, you can't bear the idea of leaving your proud Daddy's arms. For Father's Day last weekend, you gifted him with books for the two of you to become engrossed in and shoes so he could keep up with you. Yesterday, as we watched you play in your jumper, tears of overwhelming joy sprang to your Daddy's eyes. Never to be the sentimental one, your Daddy quickly brushed them away. But, as the bond between father and daughter grows, I am reminded of my own father. It's no secret my father is one of few words, and because of that, I feel like there is always so much I want to say that goes unsaid. So, to celebrate my own father on Father's Day, I hid a card in his driver bag that said everything in my heart so there was never a question as to how I loved my Daddy. He may not be able to tell me how he feels, either in verbally or in a letter, but I can rest easily knowing he knows how I feel. The bond between Daddy and his Little Girl is so incredibly special, and I am so grateful to have experienced it with my Dad, and now I get to watch this remarkable bond between my Peapod and her Daddy. I'm so richly blessed!
I love you my Daddy's Girl,
Mommy
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Letter 17
My dearest Peapod,
After 6 months of blessed time with you, I am still in awe of you. I am mesmerized by your facial expressions, I catch my breath to hear your chatter, I laugh with you while you splash in the tub, and I am so amazed at your independence already in this life. You refuse to smile when I ask, you've begun to "help" clean yourself when I change your diapers, and you love to regurgitate your entire meal on me at the most awkward of moments. But, you my darling daughter, are the light of my every day. You fill my soul with so much love and thanks for the blessing you are to our family. To reflect on my life, it's hard to imagine a time without you in it. I waited for almost 27 years for your arrival. I waited anxiously for your arrival, rubbing my swollen belly and imagining the times we would share together. You arrived a midst of joy and tears, and the joy continues to expand as my thankful tears continue to flow. You are the best part of me. Happy 6 month birthday to you my laughing partner!
Love you,
Mommy
After 6 months of blessed time with you, I am still in awe of you. I am mesmerized by your facial expressions, I catch my breath to hear your chatter, I laugh with you while you splash in the tub, and I am so amazed at your independence already in this life. You refuse to smile when I ask, you've begun to "help" clean yourself when I change your diapers, and you love to regurgitate your entire meal on me at the most awkward of moments. But, you my darling daughter, are the light of my every day. You fill my soul with so much love and thanks for the blessing you are to our family. To reflect on my life, it's hard to imagine a time without you in it. I waited for almost 27 years for your arrival. I waited anxiously for your arrival, rubbing my swollen belly and imagining the times we would share together. You arrived a midst of joy and tears, and the joy continues to expand as my thankful tears continue to flow. You are the best part of me. Happy 6 month birthday to you my laughing partner!
Love you,
Mommy
Monday, May 23, 2011
Letter 16
My dearest Peapod,
This is sweet letter 16. Your daddy and I tucked you safely in your bassinet last night to glance at an episode of "16 and Pregnant" as we put away the fresh laundry, and I began to flash forward to your life as a sixteen year-old. Would you still listen and respect your parents? Would you be experimenting in sexual behaviors, or other avenues that you are not mature enough to handle or understand? Or would you be excelling in the classroom? Taking on community service projects? I kept coming back to the same concern as the episode droned on: what did these parents NOT do that I CAN do to ensure my daughter does not become a "baby having a baby." How do I instill morals and respect for yourself so that you hold yourself to a higher regard? How do I help you to want more for yourself than these young girls want for themselves? I cannot imagine what it must be like for the parents of these young girls, merely teenagers, to watch their babies give life to another human being. I am learning to be a parent at the ripe age of 26--I have 10 years of life experience on these young girls, and yet I find myself sometimes without the answers and wisdom to raise my child. How can these tender girls think they can raise a baby on their own in today's twisted society at that age? I pray, my sweet child, that the Lord will grant me the wisdom and compassion to raise a daughter that loves herself and body enough to realize there is so much more to the world beyond the age of "Sweet 16."
I love you my sweet tweenie,
Mommy
This is sweet letter 16. Your daddy and I tucked you safely in your bassinet last night to glance at an episode of "16 and Pregnant" as we put away the fresh laundry, and I began to flash forward to your life as a sixteen year-old. Would you still listen and respect your parents? Would you be experimenting in sexual behaviors, or other avenues that you are not mature enough to handle or understand? Or would you be excelling in the classroom? Taking on community service projects? I kept coming back to the same concern as the episode droned on: what did these parents NOT do that I CAN do to ensure my daughter does not become a "baby having a baby." How do I instill morals and respect for yourself so that you hold yourself to a higher regard? How do I help you to want more for yourself than these young girls want for themselves? I cannot imagine what it must be like for the parents of these young girls, merely teenagers, to watch their babies give life to another human being. I am learning to be a parent at the ripe age of 26--I have 10 years of life experience on these young girls, and yet I find myself sometimes without the answers and wisdom to raise my child. How can these tender girls think they can raise a baby on their own in today's twisted society at that age? I pray, my sweet child, that the Lord will grant me the wisdom and compassion to raise a daughter that loves herself and body enough to realize there is so much more to the world beyond the age of "Sweet 16."
I love you my sweet tweenie,
Mommy
Monday, May 16, 2011
Letter 15 continued...
Title: Before I was Mom
Author: Unknown
Before I was a Mom,
I never tripped over toys
or forgot words to a lullaby.
I didn't worry whether or not
my plants were poisonous.
I never thought about immunizations.
Before I was a Mom,
I had never been puked on.
Pooped on.
Chewed on.
Peed on.
I had complete control of my mind
and my thoughts.
I slept all night.
Before I was a Mom,
I never held down a screaming child
so doctors could do tests.
Or give shots.
I never looked into teary eyes and cried.
I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.
I never sat up late hours at night
watching a baby sleep.
Before I was a Mom,
I never held a sleeping baby just because I didn't want to put her down.
I never felt my heart break into a million pieces when I couldn't stop the hurt.
I never knew that something so small
could affect my life so much.
I never knew that I could love someone so much. I never knew I would love being a Mom.
Before I was a Mom,
I didn't know the feeling of
having my heart outside my body..
I didn't know how special it could feel to feed a hungry baby.
I didn't know that bond
between a mother and her child.
I didn't know that something so small
could make me feel so important and happy.
Before I was a Mom,
I had never gotten up in the middle of the night every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay.
I had never known the warmth,
the joy,
the love,
the heartache,
the wonderment
or the satisfaction of being a Mom.
I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much, before I was a Mom
Letter 15
Dearest Peapod,
The war within me to be the best mother to you continues to wage on, and I am am uncertain as to if I am winning the battle. Together with your father, we celebrated my first Mother's Day last weekend. You and your father served me breakfast in bed, thanked me with cards, and graciously gave me a gift certificate for a massage. But that night, I secretly wept as I held you in my arms, longing to know if you found me as an adequate Mother. Do I provide for you in the ways you need? Do I feed you correctly? Should I have let you sleep in your bassinet from birth rather than permit you to sleep nestled safely between your father and me? Should I have held you more? Should I have continued to attempt to nurse you? Because of my decisons, are you as healthy as you could be? All these questions are arrows directed at the softness of my heart. My tears flowed smoothly down my cheeks to rest atop your blanket. I held you knowing that on that day, you were officially 5 months old. Five months have raced by in the blink of an eye, and although you know this, I have loved you more in that five months than I have loved anything else in my life. You have taught me to love in ways I thought not possible. There is no greater physical love than that of a Mother to her child. I lose so much time with you as I must work so that I can continue to give you the best material life I can, but that comes at a cost, and now, I wonder if the cost I am paying is too great. Will I look back one day with regret for the time I could have spent with you and the price I paid to have you tell me I could have been a better mother? You are no longer the bumblebee swarming in my belly; you are my baby bird preparing to take flight. I hope that when the time comes, you will know I loved you more than I thought possible and realize I tried to be the best mom I could, just like my mom did for me.
I love you my sweet bird,
Mommy
The war within me to be the best mother to you continues to wage on, and I am am uncertain as to if I am winning the battle. Together with your father, we celebrated my first Mother's Day last weekend. You and your father served me breakfast in bed, thanked me with cards, and graciously gave me a gift certificate for a massage. But that night, I secretly wept as I held you in my arms, longing to know if you found me as an adequate Mother. Do I provide for you in the ways you need? Do I feed you correctly? Should I have let you sleep in your bassinet from birth rather than permit you to sleep nestled safely between your father and me? Should I have held you more? Should I have continued to attempt to nurse you? Because of my decisons, are you as healthy as you could be? All these questions are arrows directed at the softness of my heart. My tears flowed smoothly down my cheeks to rest atop your blanket. I held you knowing that on that day, you were officially 5 months old. Five months have raced by in the blink of an eye, and although you know this, I have loved you more in that five months than I have loved anything else in my life. You have taught me to love in ways I thought not possible. There is no greater physical love than that of a Mother to her child. I lose so much time with you as I must work so that I can continue to give you the best material life I can, but that comes at a cost, and now, I wonder if the cost I am paying is too great. Will I look back one day with regret for the time I could have spent with you and the price I paid to have you tell me I could have been a better mother? You are no longer the bumblebee swarming in my belly; you are my baby bird preparing to take flight. I hope that when the time comes, you will know I loved you more than I thought possible and realize I tried to be the best mom I could, just like my mom did for me.
I love you my sweet bird,
Mommy
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Letter 14
My dearest Peapod,
"Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get," as Tom Hanks famously phrased in Forrest Gump reminds me of the choices and challenges we must face in this life. He was right my sweet Maddie Gracie. With every decision (chocolate) I make (choose), a consequence follows. I decided to become a mother, and you came bumbling out of me with a cry as melodic as Angels singing. I decided to marry your daddy, and we celebrate our anniversary every year on December 15. But not all decisions have pleasant consequences. I decided to follow the Lord in hopes of an afterlife with Him, but that means to put Him above all others and all else. I struggle with this daily as I long to put my darling daughter and her needs first. It means I must give up the pleasures of worldly sins and attempt to live a life free of sin. Although I fail daily, I must pray for His forgiveness and attempt to walk the next day in his likeness. I rely on Him for His guidance and pray He shows me the way. One day, when you are old enough to understand your decisions have consequences, you will have to make the same choices I made. Will you decide to start a family of your own? Will you decide to marry and share your life with a godly man? And, you will be faced with the same decision to give up this life and its worldly possessions to try and live a life free of sin in hopes of spending your eternal life with Your True Maker. I pray He gives you strength to face your challenges and choices and the consequences of your actions are what you were hoping for when you make the choice.
I love you my Number 2 priority,
Mommy
"Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get," as Tom Hanks famously phrased in Forrest Gump reminds me of the choices and challenges we must face in this life. He was right my sweet Maddie Gracie. With every decision (chocolate) I make (choose), a consequence follows. I decided to become a mother, and you came bumbling out of me with a cry as melodic as Angels singing. I decided to marry your daddy, and we celebrate our anniversary every year on December 15. But not all decisions have pleasant consequences. I decided to follow the Lord in hopes of an afterlife with Him, but that means to put Him above all others and all else. I struggle with this daily as I long to put my darling daughter and her needs first. It means I must give up the pleasures of worldly sins and attempt to live a life free of sin. Although I fail daily, I must pray for His forgiveness and attempt to walk the next day in his likeness. I rely on Him for His guidance and pray He shows me the way. One day, when you are old enough to understand your decisions have consequences, you will have to make the same choices I made. Will you decide to start a family of your own? Will you decide to marry and share your life with a godly man? And, you will be faced with the same decision to give up this life and its worldly possessions to try and live a life free of sin in hopes of spending your eternal life with Your True Maker. I pray He gives you strength to face your challenges and choices and the consequences of your actions are what you were hoping for when you make the choice.
I love you my Number 2 priority,
Mommy
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Letter 13
Dear Peapod:
In light of me being sick the last few days, I've been pondering what it means to watch you from the sidelines, unable to touch your hands, kiss your tickle spots, place your cheek next to mine. It's been torture, more so than my ailing cold and stummy problems. Yet, the more I reflect on this, I am beginning to understand this is to be my fate in life. As you continue to grow, I must watch from the porch as you make your choices in life. I will be there when you need me to catch you, when you need my embrace, when you need me to kiss away your tears. But, I have to let you be, too. The only way for you to learn and continue your quest through this great journey is to allow you to live life the way you decide to live it. I am the spectator that cheers the loudest when you succeed, and I will be the referee when you need to be called on your fouls. But, I'll always be watching--the mama bird ready to swoop in and catch her flying chick.
I love you my darling baby bird,
Mommy
In light of me being sick the last few days, I've been pondering what it means to watch you from the sidelines, unable to touch your hands, kiss your tickle spots, place your cheek next to mine. It's been torture, more so than my ailing cold and stummy problems. Yet, the more I reflect on this, I am beginning to understand this is to be my fate in life. As you continue to grow, I must watch from the porch as you make your choices in life. I will be there when you need me to catch you, when you need my embrace, when you need me to kiss away your tears. But, I have to let you be, too. The only way for you to learn and continue your quest through this great journey is to allow you to live life the way you decide to live it. I am the spectator that cheers the loudest when you succeed, and I will be the referee when you need to be called on your fouls. But, I'll always be watching--the mama bird ready to swoop in and catch her flying chick.
I love you my darling baby bird,
Mommy
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Letter 12
Dearest Peapod:
In the spirit of Hootie and the Blowfish, "Time...why do you punish me?" You are sprouting like a beanstalk, so strong and full of life. Not only do you have almost perfect control of your head, but you turn your head to find me when I call out to you. You can find your Daddy in a sea of faces. You speak to me in a perfect language only you can understand, but it's like hearing angels singing from the Heavens. Your laugh melts my heart as if to say you are mine and your laugh is for me only. I long to just sit with you, feel your warm presence against my cheek. Time is getting away from me. It moves so quickly that I cannot keep up. I feel as if your life-race is almost over, when yet it has only just begun. No longer are you my infant baby, but you are now my smiley daughter. Your presence in my life has made all the difference--I just ask for more time for me to be present in your life.
I love you my little fish,
Mommy
In the spirit of Hootie and the Blowfish, "Time...why do you punish me?" You are sprouting like a beanstalk, so strong and full of life. Not only do you have almost perfect control of your head, but you turn your head to find me when I call out to you. You can find your Daddy in a sea of faces. You speak to me in a perfect language only you can understand, but it's like hearing angels singing from the Heavens. Your laugh melts my heart as if to say you are mine and your laugh is for me only. I long to just sit with you, feel your warm presence against my cheek. Time is getting away from me. It moves so quickly that I cannot keep up. I feel as if your life-race is almost over, when yet it has only just begun. No longer are you my infant baby, but you are now my smiley daughter. Your presence in my life has made all the difference--I just ask for more time for me to be present in your life.
I love you my little fish,
Mommy
Monday, April 11, 2011
Letter 11
Dear Peapod,
It's official--you have now been breathing the air of life for 4 months now, and I have no idea where the time went. It's as if yesterday I was massaging my enormous belly awaiting the moment you would knock the wind out of my lungs to say you were ready to come join me, and today you are looking at me with the knowledge of a real being that knows you must eat, sleep, and empty your bodily wastes 10x1000 times a day! Your comforting nature knows when I need a smile. Your health is of the utmost importance to me, and God knows I could not handle any deviation from a healthy check-up. I found it hard to compose myself as they jabbed the syringes into your muscular legs, squeezing the antibodies into your blood. Afterwards, I thought you would cry, moan, be sick, but not my peapod. Oh no, my peapod was the beast that laughed at the injections. Once the shots were over, you gazed at the nurses, silently challenging, "Is this all you got?"
I love you my warrior peapod,
Mommy
It's official--you have now been breathing the air of life for 4 months now, and I have no idea where the time went. It's as if yesterday I was massaging my enormous belly awaiting the moment you would knock the wind out of my lungs to say you were ready to come join me, and today you are looking at me with the knowledge of a real being that knows you must eat, sleep, and empty your bodily wastes 10x1000 times a day! Your comforting nature knows when I need a smile. Your health is of the utmost importance to me, and God knows I could not handle any deviation from a healthy check-up. I found it hard to compose myself as they jabbed the syringes into your muscular legs, squeezing the antibodies into your blood. Afterwards, I thought you would cry, moan, be sick, but not my peapod. Oh no, my peapod was the beast that laughed at the injections. Once the shots were over, you gazed at the nurses, silently challenging, "Is this all you got?"
I love you my warrior peapod,
Mommy
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Letter 10
My dearest peapod,
You may find it odd that I ask you this question, but how do I teach you confidence when I am not confident in my own abilities. I would hate to one day see my insecurities mirrored in the innocence of your eyes. How should I teach you if you give your very best, you must be confident in the outcome regardless if it is good or bad. I have not mastered the art of being confident. I am a self-saboteur. From what I hear, I have so much potential to be great, but I let myself get in the way of my own success because I lack the confidence to know I can be great. I do not want that for you my sweet girl. Be like your father. Take life in strides and make the very best of what you can. Try to not let others bring you down. Remember there's no one but the good Lord that you need to please. Not even your father or me can love you like the Lord can love you. Put your faith and confidence in Him that He will grant you the keys to open the necessary doors to success. Do not measure your worth by others' standards. But above all else, you must live with yourself everyday--try to love yourself.
I love you my greatest accomplishment,
Mommy
You may find it odd that I ask you this question, but how do I teach you confidence when I am not confident in my own abilities. I would hate to one day see my insecurities mirrored in the innocence of your eyes. How should I teach you if you give your very best, you must be confident in the outcome regardless if it is good or bad. I have not mastered the art of being confident. I am a self-saboteur. From what I hear, I have so much potential to be great, but I let myself get in the way of my own success because I lack the confidence to know I can be great. I do not want that for you my sweet girl. Be like your father. Take life in strides and make the very best of what you can. Try to not let others bring you down. Remember there's no one but the good Lord that you need to please. Not even your father or me can love you like the Lord can love you. Put your faith and confidence in Him that He will grant you the keys to open the necessary doors to success. Do not measure your worth by others' standards. But above all else, you must live with yourself everyday--try to love yourself.
I love you my greatest accomplishment,
Mommy
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Letter 9
My dear Peapod,
I love you my sweet girl. I declare it when your lying in my arms, oblivious of the evil outside our door. I exclaim it when you're smiling at my goofy antics to get you to laugh (which you started to do yesterday). I sob it while you lay sleeping. I love you--it doesn't seem as if I can say it enough or adequately show you in all the ways you deserve. There is no comparison to the love that this mommy has for her bumblebee. I touch your face in the twilight as a reminder that you're real. You sweetly smile, and I long to know the dreams in your heart. I listen to your soft breathing, and I long to know the rhythm in your soul. You astound me everyday, and I have to catch myself--are you really mine? Did we really plant a seed that resulted in your birth? But with one look, I see my eyes looking back at me. In that look, you say all that needs to be said. "I love you, too, Mommy."
I love you my love child,
Mommy
I love you my sweet girl. I declare it when your lying in my arms, oblivious of the evil outside our door. I exclaim it when you're smiling at my goofy antics to get you to laugh (which you started to do yesterday). I sob it while you lay sleeping. I love you--it doesn't seem as if I can say it enough or adequately show you in all the ways you deserve. There is no comparison to the love that this mommy has for her bumblebee. I touch your face in the twilight as a reminder that you're real. You sweetly smile, and I long to know the dreams in your heart. I listen to your soft breathing, and I long to know the rhythm in your soul. You astound me everyday, and I have to catch myself--are you really mine? Did we really plant a seed that resulted in your birth? But with one look, I see my eyes looking back at me. In that look, you say all that needs to be said. "I love you, too, Mommy."
I love you my love child,
Mommy
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Letter 8
My dearest peapod,
I have learned in my lifetime that you can read a novel by looking into one's eyes. I hope to raise you in a way that speaks of compassion and understanding so that when you look into another's eyes, you can see their joys, their aches, and their fears.You learn so much from others when you read their soul through the beauty of their irises. Looking into yours, I see my own eyes looking back. I read the excitement when you recognize your father's voice or you hear my laughter.
I often feel when I'm talking to people that I cannot allow them to see my eyes out of fear that they will judge me. I fear they will read too much and not understand the sorrows and loves of my life. But above all, I fear they will just not care to read. But, not you my bright-eyed child. Your eyes are open and ready to read my soul from cover to cover. You are excited to experience life for the first time, and I long to see the world through your innocent eyes. Never lose that fervor to learn about others. It will take you far in this life baby blue!
"Here's looking at you kid,"
Mommy
I have learned in my lifetime that you can read a novel by looking into one's eyes. I hope to raise you in a way that speaks of compassion and understanding so that when you look into another's eyes, you can see their joys, their aches, and their fears.You learn so much from others when you read their soul through the beauty of their irises. Looking into yours, I see my own eyes looking back. I read the excitement when you recognize your father's voice or you hear my laughter.
I often feel when I'm talking to people that I cannot allow them to see my eyes out of fear that they will judge me. I fear they will read too much and not understand the sorrows and loves of my life. But above all, I fear they will just not care to read. But, not you my bright-eyed child. Your eyes are open and ready to read my soul from cover to cover. You are excited to experience life for the first time, and I long to see the world through your innocent eyes. Never lose that fervor to learn about others. It will take you far in this life baby blue!
"Here's looking at you kid,"
Mommy
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Letter 7
Dear Peapod,
Hi. I'm beginning to realize I wasn't meant to be a teacher. After all, how can I teach you when there are things I need to teach myself, that I need to realize, but that I refuse to learn. How many times have I heard, "You just need to learn to deal with it-get a grip," over and over? But baby, that's something I still have not learned. I have not learned how to comfort you in all the ways you need to be comforted. I have not learned how to balance my family, my extended family, maintain friendships, be successful in my career, give my all to the Lord....I mean, look at that list as an example. The Lord should be first, and right now, all I can think about is me. So today, don't follow my example--it's not a good or healthy one. I'll try to be better tomorrow. Just know that I love you and am trying to give you my best every day.
Love,
Your Retired Teacher
Hi. I'm beginning to realize I wasn't meant to be a teacher. After all, how can I teach you when there are things I need to teach myself, that I need to realize, but that I refuse to learn. How many times have I heard, "You just need to learn to deal with it-get a grip," over and over? But baby, that's something I still have not learned. I have not learned how to comfort you in all the ways you need to be comforted. I have not learned how to balance my family, my extended family, maintain friendships, be successful in my career, give my all to the Lord....I mean, look at that list as an example. The Lord should be first, and right now, all I can think about is me. So today, don't follow my example--it's not a good or healthy one. I'll try to be better tomorrow. Just know that I love you and am trying to give you my best every day.
Love,
Your Retired Teacher
Monday, March 28, 2011
Letter 6
Dear Miss Peapod,
I have now been writing to you for a week and have discovered it's extremely therapeutic for me. When I first found out the seed had been planted and you would be an early Christmas present for me, never did I stop to think of the consequences of that gift. I did not think it would be difficult to have someone else care for you during the day. When the morning dawned that I watched your father cart you out the door so that I was left to return to the job, I felt an overwhelming feeling of shame and regret because I not only chose to continue my career but because someone else was being charged to raise you. I felt once again that you were being ripped from my core, but this time, there was no epidural, no pain reliever. I mean, after all, your journeys with Stephanie far out-weigh the amount of time we are left to journey together. Writing to you eases that pain for me. Nothing can replace the time we lose together every day, hence the reason I still cry and wonder if I made the right decision in returning to work. Yet, I know I am doing my best to provide the best and most stable life for you. You, my good-natured peapod, come first. I am charged with providing you the best shelter, the best nutrients, and the best education available. To provide, I must be like the Ant in the old fable and continue to work without ceasing.
Truly missing you peapod,
Mommy
I have now been writing to you for a week and have discovered it's extremely therapeutic for me. When I first found out the seed had been planted and you would be an early Christmas present for me, never did I stop to think of the consequences of that gift. I did not think it would be difficult to have someone else care for you during the day. When the morning dawned that I watched your father cart you out the door so that I was left to return to the job, I felt an overwhelming feeling of shame and regret because I not only chose to continue my career but because someone else was being charged to raise you. I felt once again that you were being ripped from my core, but this time, there was no epidural, no pain reliever. I mean, after all, your journeys with Stephanie far out-weigh the amount of time we are left to journey together. Writing to you eases that pain for me. Nothing can replace the time we lose together every day, hence the reason I still cry and wonder if I made the right decision in returning to work. Yet, I know I am doing my best to provide the best and most stable life for you. You, my good-natured peapod, come first. I am charged with providing you the best shelter, the best nutrients, and the best education available. To provide, I must be like the Ant in the old fable and continue to work without ceasing.
Truly missing you peapod,
Mommy
Friday, March 25, 2011
Letter 5
Dear Miss Peapod,
Today's lesson is about being a perfectionist--don't be one. Not that it's not great to strive for success because it is, but there is a difference in setting goals to succeed and setting goals too high for anyone other than the Lord to reach. Don't be like me in this regard. I wake in the morning to remember the failures and mistakes of the day before rather than arise to think of the good the Lord can do through me for the day. I dwell on the "what might have beens" rather than the "what can I do today to better tomorrow." As your PawPaw sang, and yes this is a borrowed lyric, "Lord, it's hard to be humble when you're perfect in every way..." I am not perfect, and my mistakes are limitless. But, I look at you, my sweet, shiny, gassy peapod, and I know I created the most perfect thing possible (with the help of the good Lord and your daddy of course). If only I could stop dreading my failures and remember as long as I have you, I am perfect.
Love you perfectionista,
Mommy
Today's lesson is about being a perfectionist--don't be one. Not that it's not great to strive for success because it is, but there is a difference in setting goals to succeed and setting goals too high for anyone other than the Lord to reach. Don't be like me in this regard. I wake in the morning to remember the failures and mistakes of the day before rather than arise to think of the good the Lord can do through me for the day. I dwell on the "what might have beens" rather than the "what can I do today to better tomorrow." As your PawPaw sang, and yes this is a borrowed lyric, "Lord, it's hard to be humble when you're perfect in every way..." I am not perfect, and my mistakes are limitless. But, I look at you, my sweet, shiny, gassy peapod, and I know I created the most perfect thing possible (with the help of the good Lord and your daddy of course). If only I could stop dreading my failures and remember as long as I have you, I am perfect.
Love you perfectionista,
Mommy
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Picture for Letter 4
Letter 4
Dear Miss Peapod,
Bathing you last night reminded me I need to teach you about corners. As I was lathering the cloth that would scrub away the problems of the day, I was reminded of my own father at bathtime. He would take the rag, place the center in the palm of his strong hand, and rotate it so that every corner oozed with suds. He would proceed to polish us all and make us appear new again, ready to take on the world the next morning. If he wouldn't have covered all the corners, a piece of us would have gotten missed, and he knew how important it was to not cut the corners. So, I share with you now my sweet girl, don't cut the corners in life. Don't try to take the shortcut, there's no telling what you might miss along the way. You may get dirty along the way, but I can guarantee you will learn from the experience, wash yourself of the bad, and embrace life with the same patience your PawPaw took to polish yourself like new again.
I love you my shiny pod,
Mom
Bathing you last night reminded me I need to teach you about corners. As I was lathering the cloth that would scrub away the problems of the day, I was reminded of my own father at bathtime. He would take the rag, place the center in the palm of his strong hand, and rotate it so that every corner oozed with suds. He would proceed to polish us all and make us appear new again, ready to take on the world the next morning. If he wouldn't have covered all the corners, a piece of us would have gotten missed, and he knew how important it was to not cut the corners. So, I share with you now my sweet girl, don't cut the corners in life. Don't try to take the shortcut, there's no telling what you might miss along the way. You may get dirty along the way, but I can guarantee you will learn from the experience, wash yourself of the bad, and embrace life with the same patience your PawPaw took to polish yourself like new again.
I love you my shiny pod,
Mom
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Letter 3
Dear Peapod,
As you will know by the time you (hopefully) read these letters, you were my first (and if the Lord doesn't give me anymore, my only) child. I knew naught of what it would mean to be called, 'Mom.' I mean, I knew the basics: change you when there's an abhorrent odor reaking from your body and/or diaper, give you a pacifier (or passey, or Nuk, or BaBa, or plug, or whatever the darn think is called) when your screams fill the air, bathe you when I can no longer tell the color of your skin, and hold you when you need to be comforted. But all that aside, that's not the true definition of 'Mom.' Anyone can do those things--even your uncle that is deathly afraid he will break you if he looks in your direction. No, so far what I have learned about being a 'Mom' is this: it is a lifelong role that I will always question and has nothing to do with the fact you sprouted out of my body. I will be one of the primary peeps to shape your life, so I have to live a life that's worthy of shaping you. Not only do I get to be the lucky one to comfort you, I have to recognize when you need to be comforted and when to allow you the freedom to declare your independence and soar to your own heights. Not only do I get to change you and bathe you and replace the scream stopper, I am charged with teaching you how to make the decisions of when and how to bathe, what and how to dress, and when to open and close your mouth to defend your beliefs. If I've learned anything from the mothers before me, it's that regardless of biology, and who is termed as giving birth to a child, a Mom is so much more. I hope in your eyes, I'm worthy of that name now and throughout our life together.
I love you my future president!
Mom
As you will know by the time you (hopefully) read these letters, you were my first (and if the Lord doesn't give me anymore, my only) child. I knew naught of what it would mean to be called, 'Mom.' I mean, I knew the basics: change you when there's an abhorrent odor reaking from your body and/or diaper, give you a pacifier (or passey, or Nuk, or BaBa, or plug, or whatever the darn think is called) when your screams fill the air, bathe you when I can no longer tell the color of your skin, and hold you when you need to be comforted. But all that aside, that's not the true definition of 'Mom.' Anyone can do those things--even your uncle that is deathly afraid he will break you if he looks in your direction. No, so far what I have learned about being a 'Mom' is this: it is a lifelong role that I will always question and has nothing to do with the fact you sprouted out of my body. I will be one of the primary peeps to shape your life, so I have to live a life that's worthy of shaping you. Not only do I get to be the lucky one to comfort you, I have to recognize when you need to be comforted and when to allow you the freedom to declare your independence and soar to your own heights. Not only do I get to change you and bathe you and replace the scream stopper, I am charged with teaching you how to make the decisions of when and how to bathe, what and how to dress, and when to open and close your mouth to defend your beliefs. If I've learned anything from the mothers before me, it's that regardless of biology, and who is termed as giving birth to a child, a Mom is so much more. I hope in your eyes, I'm worthy of that name now and throughout our life together.
I love you my future president!
Mom
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Letter 2
Dear Miss Peapod,
You are already quite the little lady. Rather than belch and pass gas like your father (and the doctors and other family members and neighbors and practically every other living thing) wants you to do, you scream at the thought of having to participate in such a "male" favorite hobby. Due to your sensitive tummy (sorry baby, but you inherited that from me), you MUST pause during feeding to rid yourself of the gas bubble that needs to erupt from your belly. The screech that follows after you realize you no longer have a nipple in your mouth is agonizing to my ears at best. And nothing is worse to me than having you sound asleep only to have you violently awakened by the gas exploding from the other end. Ladies do these things as quietly as possible and not in public--I know your sobs are only due to the embarrassment you must feel at doing these things in front of all to see. I empower you to enjoy your release and know that it's for the good of your body (at least that's what I tell myself when I refrain from giving you back the bottle until you belch as your father models for you).
I love you sweet gassy girl,
Mommy
You are already quite the little lady. Rather than belch and pass gas like your father (and the doctors and other family members and neighbors and practically every other living thing) wants you to do, you scream at the thought of having to participate in such a "male" favorite hobby. Due to your sensitive tummy (sorry baby, but you inherited that from me), you MUST pause during feeding to rid yourself of the gas bubble that needs to erupt from your belly. The screech that follows after you realize you no longer have a nipple in your mouth is agonizing to my ears at best. And nothing is worse to me than having you sound asleep only to have you violently awakened by the gas exploding from the other end. Ladies do these things as quietly as possible and not in public--I know your sobs are only due to the embarrassment you must feel at doing these things in front of all to see. I empower you to enjoy your release and know that it's for the good of your body (at least that's what I tell myself when I refrain from giving you back the bottle until you belch as your father models for you).
I love you sweet gassy girl,
Mommy
Monday, March 21, 2011
Letter 1
Dear Peapod,
This blog I dedicate to you. You are beginning to recognize me and know me as your mommy, your person, which also must mean you are beginning to recognize that I'm not always around. Although I secretly wish for you to miss me while you're on your daily journeys with Ms. Powell, I want you to always know I am thinking of you.
I'm thinking of you now--the way you looked when I took your picture this morning with both hands holding your bottle for the first time. You grow too fast my sweet girl--this Wednesday serves as the reminder that 15 weeks ago I experienced the most painful and most rewarding moment of my life all at once. My bumblebee came bumbling out of me, and in that instance, that last moment you were physically connected to me, I knew a wholeness I hadn't thought could exist. When you were cut from me, I knew that although we were now two beings, we would never be separated. You needed me then, and now, you are showing me all the ways you are becoming your own independent self, holding your bottle. I just pray that you continue to need me, the same way I will always need you.
I love you my sweet peapod.
This blog I dedicate to you. You are beginning to recognize me and know me as your mommy, your person, which also must mean you are beginning to recognize that I'm not always around. Although I secretly wish for you to miss me while you're on your daily journeys with Ms. Powell, I want you to always know I am thinking of you.
I'm thinking of you now--the way you looked when I took your picture this morning with both hands holding your bottle for the first time. You grow too fast my sweet girl--this Wednesday serves as the reminder that 15 weeks ago I experienced the most painful and most rewarding moment of my life all at once. My bumblebee came bumbling out of me, and in that instance, that last moment you were physically connected to me, I knew a wholeness I hadn't thought could exist. When you were cut from me, I knew that although we were now two beings, we would never be separated. You needed me then, and now, you are showing me all the ways you are becoming your own independent self, holding your bottle. I just pray that you continue to need me, the same way I will always need you.
I love you my sweet peapod.
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