Dear Avery -- big news!

Dear Avery,

Daddy and I have some very exciting news for you. The dolly in this picture is not the only baby we brought home for you from the Bahamas. That's right, my sweet girl, come November, you are going to be a BIG SISTER!!!!

This news is a surprise to us -- a very welcome surprise! Some people might tell me I'm crazy. They might think that you're going to get jipped. You will only be 13 months when this new baby comes home -- still a baby yourself! I'm going to need to figure out  a lot of things. How will I hold you both? Bathe you both? Feed you both? Soothe you both? How will I ever carry you AND a diaper bag AND a newborn in a car seat?

Some people might ask me another question too. How will I ever love you both?

Yes, you are going to have to share a lot of things. You will need to share your toys and your books and maybe even your clothes. And sometimes you might not be so happy about that. 

But let me be clear on this. You will never need to share my love. There's no limit to love. It just grows. And Daddy and I will always have plenty to go around. Bringing home a new baby won't ever mean that we'll love you any less. If anything, it will mean that we'll love you more. 

You will always be our first born. The first kick in my tummy. The first smile that melted us. The first giggle that filled our hearts. These things will always belong to you.

And now you get to be the BIG SISTER, something that I never got to be myself. I always dreamed of having a little sibling close in age. It was my biggest wish. This new baby is going to adore you. And you are going to just love having somebody to play with. The two of you will share a bond that is different than anything Daddy and I could ever offer you. And I can't wait to witness it.

No, sweet child, I don't think you're getting jipped at all. In fact, I think you and your little brother or sister are just about the luckiest babies in the whole wide world. I am so SO happy for you.

I love you so much.

Love,

Mommy

p.s. this is how you told Daddy the news!

Dear Avery -- 5 months old

Dear Avery,

Where has the time gone? You are getting to be such a big beautiful baby. And you started sitting up on your own today!!! I couldn't wait to come home to you after my trip. I practically ran into the house to see you. Do you know that I fall more in love with you every single day?

Last week I had an accident. These things happen, even to grown-ups. I dropped and broke my laptop. It was like a technological fire. Everything was gone -- my music, my poetry, all of my hundreds of pictures of sweet you. The entire hard drive needed to be replaced. I sat there with the computer doctor as he broke this sad news to me. If this had happened a year ago, I know I would have broken down and sobbed for hours. I would have been just devastated. 

But I didn't shed any tears. I was frustrated, yes. But I knew it wasn't the end of the world. I looked at you in your stroller flirting away with the computer doctor and I smiled. And then I thanked God. I dropped a laptop. Not you.

When I was a little girl, your Uncle Craig and I had an accident. We dropped an entire jug of apple juice onto Nannie's kitchen floor while she was outside hanging laundry on the clothesline. This was back in the day when everything was glass. The jug shattered and the juice spilled everywhere. We were terrified. We were sure she would kill us. But to our great surprise, Nannie walked in, looked around and said, "Well, let's start cleaning it up." She wasn't even mad!! Nobody was hurt. It could be fixed. 

This was my first lesson in not crying over spilled milk -- or in this case, spilled apple juice. I've thought back to this day often and I've spent my life trying to perfect that calm that Nannie so eloquently modeled for me that day in her juice-covered kitchen. 

But this hasn't been easy for me. Some spills just seem bigger than others. Last summer I was in hysterics because I closed the trunk of my car on my sunglasses. I was very far from calm. And it was a pair of sunglasses for pete's sake. 

You have given me such a gift, Avery. Perspective. You have taught me to look at life with a whole new set of eyes. You have shown me what matters. You have made the small stuff easier to handle. And you've helped me see that it's almost all small stuff. You've finally brought clarity to the lesson that my grandmother tried so hard to teach me so many years ago. 

You, sweet girl, have made my world a happier place. Just by being you.

Love,

Mommy

Dear Avery -- from the Bahamas

Dear Avery,

I am writing this from the Bahamas. I am looking out over the balcony -- the sun is shining, the palm trees are swaying, the ocean is glistening aqua blue. I miss you.

I keep thinking about what it would be like if you were here with us. I know you'd love all the bright colors -- the trees, the ocean, the gardens -- and I know you'd love the little kiddy pool. But here's what you'd hate --that fresh, strong ocean breeze and the beautiful, hard stone floor of our suite. And I know you'd just try to eat all the soft white sand.

I think we made the right choice to leave you with Nana and Papa.

Daddy and I are having a really good time. We've been snorkeling along the coral reef and seen Nemo up close and personal. We've had frozen cocktails right on the beach. We've floated on boogie boards and let the waves carry us wherever they've wanted us to go. We've gone running together barefoot on the white sandy beach. We've eaten fresh conch salad pulled right from the shell in front of our eyes. We've had fancy dinners, boat rides to tiny islands and cold drinks in the hot tub. We've been massaged head to toe, waited on hand and foot and treated like nothing less than royalty. As I type this, Daddy is taking a lazy afternoon nap and I am wrapped in my robe, fresh from a long hot bubble bath. This is the vacation of a life-time.

Still, though, the best part of my every day here is coming back to our suite to watch the little 30-second videos of you that Nana and Papa keep sending us. Beautiful, little, smiling you. I am going to be so happy to come home to you.

As much as I am missing you right now, I know that Daddy and I will return to you even better parents than when we left. A good parent is a happy parent. And a happy parent comes from a happy marriage. Taking time to do things together as a couple is just as important as tucking you in at night. This step back from reality has brought Daddy and I a step closer together. We are falling in love all over again.

Somebody once told me that the key to a happy marriage is to do just that -- find a way to fall in love over and over and over again. So far, I'd have to agree.

Love,
Mommy

Dear Avery -- 4 1/2 months old

Dear Avery,

I am on an airplane right now, a million miles away from you. I really thought about packing you up and taking you along with me. You did fit very nicely inside my suitcase, but I knew all along that I was going to have to say good-bye.

I left you last night, making sure you were filled with sweet dreams before I placed one last kiss on your forehead and walked away. I did better than I thought I would. No tears. Not then anyway. Nana & Papa called this morning and told me you woke up all smiles. I know you will be fine. You will be better than fine. You will have a ball.

You are the lucky one. You are too young to have any concept of time or miles.

I did ok until I stepped into the airport this morning. There was a woman with a baby. He was strapped to her chest, snuggling into his mama while she smoothed the hair on the top of his head and did the mama sway back and forth. I longed for you. Why weren’t you here with me too? The tears sprung to my eyes.

I felt compelled to talk to this mother and tell her that I was a mother too. I needed her – I needed SOMEONE – to know that I, too, knew how to do the mama sway. I walked up to her, asked how old her baby was and told her that my little girl was at home with her grandparents. The look on her face broke me. She thought I was crazy. The questions were there written all over her face. You left your 4-MONTH-OLD?!?! How could you?!? What kind of mother are you???

And now I am left to ponder these questions on my own. Am I selfish? Cold? Just plain crazy??? What kind of mother leaves her baby???

I want you to know that I never wanted to leave you. Never in a million years would I have actually planned a trip like this. But it is what it is and here I am. On my way. And I do know in the big picture, this was what was best for you and best for me and Daddy. Your daddy worked very, very hard for this week of tropical paradise. We deserve this. And god help me, we will enjoy it.

But still, it’s strange not having you here with me. Empty. I miss you so much my heart hurts. But it’s even more than that. There is another question burning inside of me.

Who am I without you?

I know who I am with you. I am beautiful. Even with my unwashed hair, unbrushed teeth and sweatpants stained with spit-up, I am still beautiful, the most beautiful thing you have ever seen. And I am funny. With my horrible nails-on-chalkboard singing voice, I can make your whole face light up and dance with laughter. And I am brilliant. You watch my every move with those wide awe-struck eyes of yours and you hang on my every word.

Your presence just makes me more. You love me so fully, it’s hard to imagine I even existed before you came along. I’m not so sure anymore that I ever did.

Other people have suddenly been drawn to me too. In the check-out line at the grocery store, the library, the bank – everyone wants to talk to me, be near me, be my friend. I’ve grown quite used to it. But it finally dawned on me today that they aren’t drawn to me. They are drawn toyou. Beautiful, amazing, perfect little you. Of course. Duh. Nobody has even looked twice at me on this plane to the Bahamas. I am no longer a shining star. I am ordinary.

I didn’t even realize that somehow in the last 4 months I had become an extension of you. And all along I thought it was supposed to be the other way around. Silly me.

As I’m writing this, though, I know it isn’t all true. I am sitting next to your daddy, the love of my life, and I know he sees me as you do. He saw me that way long before you were here. I’m not ordinary to him.

I was someone before you were born, my sweet girl. And I am still her. Just more.

And even if I don’t exist to all these strangers on the airplane, that's ok too. Because next week when I am holding you on my chest, swaying with you back and forth, smoothing the hair on the top of your head and watching you look up at me, I know I will be very, very far from ordinary.

I love you and miss you so much.

Love,
Mommy