Dear Avery -- 16 months old

Dear Avery -- 16 months old,

Already there are tears in my eyes, that is how much I miss you. Daddy and I are on our way to Aruba. We planned originally to bring you with us. But in the end I realized that that would be more for my sake than for yours and that you would be better off in the comfort of your own home with your Nana and Papa and your baby brother. Hard as it was to kiss you good-bye this morning, I know it was the right choice.

You amaze me still every day and you keep me on my toes. You are speaking about 100 words now and have mastered the two-word sentence -- “hat Dada”, “hi Ty”, “no nap” and “car Mama” (for when you want me to carry you -- which is quite often these days.)

We’ve had a rough couple of weeks. It started when you fell down a whole flight of stairs. You scared your mama half to death. We had playgroup at our house that morning. As always things were chaotic -- toys thrown everywhere, toddlers running around every which way. I was at the door saying good-bye to our friends and you and Hunter were playing at the bottom of the stairs. You were being silly and showing off, climbing up the stairs to try to get a reaction from me. And I let you go.

I let you go. I was right there -- only I learned that being right there at the bottom of the stairs does no good when your baby falls all the way from the top. I watched your little body land hard on every step, your sweet face twisted in terror. But there was nothing I could do to stop it. I’ve replayed that fall in my head a million times and each time there is still nothing I can do. I grabbed you at that last bounce and held you close to me crying out for my friends to help. Horrible thoughts raced through my head. But Amanda finally convinced me to put you down (I was sure your broken body would just crumble to the floor) and do you know what you did? You ran off and played! You were fine -- not a bruise, not a scrape, nothing. See sweet girl, you AMAZE me. You probably won’t even remember it. Me, on the other hand, I am scarred for life.

This, my dear, is motherhood.

A few days later I rushed Tyler to the ER with a high fever. He was diagnosed with RSV and had coughing fits so bad I thought he’d stop breathing. And then just when he was finally getting better, you and I got it too. The only thing worse than two sick babies is a sick mommy with two sick babies. It was tough.

And then finally, FINALLY when we were all on the mend, Daddy and I caught the stomach bug. Now that was BAD. Thankfully Nana and Papa were already on their way. In 16 months this was the first time I honestly could not take care of my babies. Even when I was in labor with your brother, on my hands and knees with contractions, I could still care for you. But not yesterday. I was SICK. You couldn’t understand why mama and dada were there but not there and you cried for me all day long. All I could do was hang my head over the toilet and tell you that I love you.

Sometimes that is all you can do. And obviously pray that the tummy bug germ hasn’t been passed on to you or your brother.

There was a moment during our course of bad luck when it seemed as though it just couldn’t get any worse. Your brother was in the high chair coughing his horrible heartbreaking cough. You were sitting in your booster seat, snot just pouring from your nose like a faucet, baby carrots and rice thrown all over the kitchen, jello in your hair, screaming in refusal to take your medicine for your double ear infection. Daddy and I were so tired our eyes hurt. Daddy kept trying until finally you threw up the pink gooey mess -- all over you, all over him, all over the booster seat, all over the floor. Daddy was stressed. It was, after-all, stressful.

And do you know what your mother here did? I laughed. Daddy didn’t really like that. But what was the alternative?

I had a vision in that moment -- Daddy and I many years down the road looking back on our life with two small babies -- the chaos, the tears, the sleepless nights, the snot, the puke, the jello in the hair. And I pictured us missing it. As stressful as it is at times, I know we will miss it once it is gone. We’ll long for it. And we won’t be able to get it back. We’ll look back and laugh until we cry. I am sure of it.

Avery, I am so proud of you in so many ways. You and your brother are the lights of my life. When I bring you to the gym or Target or the grocery store and you smile your big smile and say “hi-i” and “bye-ye” to every stranger we pass, I watch as your joy brings light to their faces. You, my sweet girl, are infectious. You amaze me. And I am truly proud to be your mother. I wouldn’t trade all the craziness for anything.

I am going to miss you so much this week. Daddy is too (he just leaned over on the plane and whispered to me that he misses you too.)

Love,

Mommy