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

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

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

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

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

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