Dear Avery -- 8 weeks old

Dear Avery,

We've started a family tradition. Every night at bedtime we tell one another about the best part of our day and the worst part of our day. Since you can't talk yet, Mommy has to guess for you. But you give me good clues. When you smile big and beautiful, I know you are happy. And when you scream and scream and scream, I know you are not. Yesterday I think the best part of your day was when I read you "Goodnight Moon." You just smiled and smiled and smiled and looked at me with those big wide eyes. The worst part of your day was definitely at the grocery store. Yikes!

Daddy asked me about my best part yesterday. I said it was seeing Grammy's face when she walked into D'angelos. We meet Grammy for lunch every Wednesday. She only gets a 30-minute lunch break but I'm telling you, it is the best 30 minutes of her whole week. Her whole face lights up when she sees you.

That's the thing, Avery. You have a special gift. You bring joy and light to everyone around you. 

Nana and Papa came the other day. It was Nana's birthday. I think spending it with you was her best present. And boy did you smile that big pretty smile at your Papa! We went to visit your great-grandparents, Nannie and Papa Bob, last week too. You followed Papa Bob with your eyes everywhere he went. He felt so loved by you. And I felt so blessed to be there to witness it.

We spend every Thursday with Auntie Shannon and Carter and Mason. When I meet Carter at his bus stop and tell him you are waiting inside with his mommy, he always shouts out a big "YES!" And Mason has started putting a diaper on his "Cookie" and giving him a bottle just like you!

Grandma and Poppy are coming next week for Thanksgiving. They can't wait. And I can't wait to give them the gift of you too. 

I am so proud of you for giving so much joy to all the people around you. I am so honored to be your mother.

Love,

Mommy

Dear Avery -- 7 weeks old

Dear Avery,

I have a story to tell you today. You have a sister. You are our first-born, yes. But there was a baby -- a life -- that came before you. You have an angel sister. She was created and loved and celebrated. But never born. She went from my tummy straight to heaven. And it was one year ago today that she got her angel wings.

You never got to know her. And neither did we. But she touched us all and left Daddy and I with so much. She gave us joy. She gave us strength. She gave us hope. And more than anything else, she left us with perspective. She taught us to grieve without shame. To appreciate. To love without reservation. To believe in miracles.

She touched a lot of other people too. Strangers. Her tiny little life, short as it was, had weight. She will not be forgotten. 

So today we remember. And we thank her for her precious gifts. In fact, I'm looking at her best gift right now. 

Yes, my sweet girl, she gave us you. 

I love you both so much.

Love,

Mommy

Dear Avery -- 6 weeks old

Dear Avery,

I left you with Daddy for the first time this week. Three times actually. It was only for an hour or so each time but I couldn't wait to get home to you. It wasn't that I was worried. It's just that I missed you. I hadn't left your side for six weeks. And not for the nine months before that. You've literally been attached to me for close to a year. It's strange to not have you right next to me. You've become a part of me. So much so that I can't even remember my life without you.

You are fast asleep in your swing as I write this. I am typing fast, hoping to get my thoughts out. I know that the minute you wake up, my "me" time is over. I'm hoping you sleep a little longer. But the truth is, I sometimes even miss you when you're sleeping.

I left you with Daddy so that I could go to the gym. And let me tell you, going back to the gym was hard. Not quite as hard as childbirth. But close. I've never not gone to the gym for a whole year before. My body has changed. And it can't do all the things it used to. I've been sore for three days now. 

It would have been so easy for me to not go. Ever. I have you now and I'm busy and out of shape and it takes effort to make the time to get there. And I miss you when I'm gone. And I know you certainly don't care if I'm fat!

But here's what I've come to realize. I need to go back for you as much as much as I need to go back for me. You need a mommy who is healthy and strong and whole. You need a mommy who feels good about herself and is not lost in the giant vast world of motherhood -- and what an easy place to lose your way.

So I make this commitment to you as I make it to me. I will not get lost. I will stand here with my two feet planted firmly to the ground and I will give to you everything I can. I will give you all of myself. 

But I won't let go of me in the process. 

Putting me first is putting you first. And meeting my own needs is the very best way to meet yours, even if it means missing you every once in a while. When I do things to better myself, I end up bettering myself as a mother too.

And anyway, your daddy sure does love his special time with you.

Love,

Mommy

Dear Avery -- 5 weeks old

Dear Avery,

This weekend you will attend your second funeral. That's right. You have two great-grandmothers who chose to stay on this earth just long enough to know of your arrival and to experience the joy that you brought. Yes, my sweet girl, you have already brought so much joy to this earth.

Ma Doris died on your one-week birthday. She never got to meet you or hold you, but Zayde brought her your picture and you made her smile. I don't think she understood who you were, but she kissed you and loved you all the same. 

Ma Doris had a special saying. It wasn't something she said, though, until the late stages of her life. I guess it didn't come to her until she got old. As her mind drifted away and she got older and older, she said it more and more. At the end it was the only coherent thing she said at all. 

Not a lot of money but a lot of fun. 

This was a funny thing coming from Ma Doris, because there was a time when she actually did have a lot of money. But in the end, when logic and reason and even her own thoughts evaded her, she was left with only the lessons of life. And this is what she had to say, her message to us. The money never mattered. 

So I won't wish for riches for you, my sweet girl. Instead I'll wish for you a life that's rich with fun and happiness. I'll wish for you a life of joy.

Grandma Jane died two days ago. The picture above is of her when she was young. She never got to meet you either, but she knew that you were named for her. Avery Jane. And knowing that was better than a thousand presents. It was one of her greatest honors. I'm so proud of you for giving that to her. 

Daddy knows Grandma Jane a lot better than I do and I'm sure he'll tell you lots of stories about her. But here's what I know. She was strong. She was generous. And she knew how to love. How do I know? Because she brought eight children into this world. And a million grandchildren. And a countless number of great-grandchildren who will keep coming for many more years. She created a family. And this is her proof. If I had to describe her big family in one word, it would be this. Warm. And warmth doesn't just come by accident. It is something that is created only by strength, by generosity and by love. 

Daddy and I were proud to give you the name Jane. We know you'll carry her legacy and make her proud too. You already have. 

Technically the name Jane means by the grace of God. By the grace of God, Grandma Jane lived a beautiful life. By the grace of God, you, our sweet Avery Jane, came to us healthy and whole. By the grace of God, you were the little girl we always dreamed of. God's best gift, his perfect miracle. 

By the grace of God, you came to us. I am so blessed to be your mother. I love you so much.

Love, 

Mommy

Dear Avery -- 4 weeks old

Dear Avery,

Do you know that you love the shower? You don't come in with me, of course, but you love the sound of the running water and the fan so I've started dragging your bassinet in every day while I get ready. 

Yesterday you started to fuss so I quickly jumped out, wrapped a towel around me and put my face where you could see me. And I said what I always say to you when you get fussy, "Mama's right here." Your crying stopped immediately and you looked up at me with those big wide eyes of yours. And then magic happened. 

You smiled.

I'd anticipated this moment forever. You hear about it all the time. Your baby's first smile. What could be more beautiful than that?

What I hadn't anticipated was what it would do to me on the inside. Your happy little face pulled at something deep within me. It melted me. This wasn't just gas. You were actually happy. And you were happy to see me. I've known all along that I loved you. But now here it was written all over your face -- you loved me too. 

Your smile made you more real to me. Suddenly you were more than just an eating/crying/pooping/sleeping machine. You were a person. You had a heart -- a heart that does more than just beat. A heart that feels. A heart that feels happy. A heart that feels loved. It's what I've always wanted for you. It's what I always will want for you. 

May your heart be forever filled with smiles. I love you.

Love,

Mommy

p.s. This is from a song Daddy and I have been listening to lately and it makes me cry every time:

I Loved Her First by Heartland

But I loved her first and I held her first

And a place in my heart will always be hers

From the first breath she breathed

When she first smiled at me

I knew the love of a father runs deep

Someday you might know what I'm going through

When a miracle smiles up at you

I loved her first

Dear Avery -- 3 weeks old

Dear Avery,

It might be hard for me to write this. I have so much I want to say but I haven't quite gotten the hang of typing one-handed yet and I never seem to have a long enough stretch without holding you.

And how I love holding you. I could stare at you forever. Your little silly faces. Your big funny stretches. Your wide curious eyes. Your delicate little mouth. Your soft skin. Your sweet baby smell. I could go on and on...

Before you were born, the thought of caring for an infant really freaked me out. I like kids, but babies? I just wasn't sure. They seemed so alien, so cranky, so breakable. I was never one of those people who loved to hold other people's babies. I just wasn't.

But everything changed for me the minute I first saw you. It's like a switch was turned on. You were mine. And there was nothing freaky about it. It was as natural as falling in love. It wasfalling in love.

I can't believe you are three weeks old already. The idea of you growing up right before my eyes both excites me and makes me want to weep. I am excited to keep getting to know you, to see who you become. I am excited for all the firsts. Who will you first smile at? What

 will your laugh sound like? Will your first word be Mama? Your first steps. Your first play in the snow. Your first day at the beach. Your first swim. I am so excited for all of it.

And I am sad for the passing of moments we will never have again. Even your birth -- and it was such a beautiful birth -- is now just a sweet memory already neatly tucked away. We never get to have it back.

You are now back to your birth weight, 7lbs, 11oz. As much as I've been hoping (praying) that you would finally start gaining weight, I now realize you will never again be this little. By next week you will likely be over 8lbs. And you'll never weigh under it again. You are going to grow. And grow. And grow. I'm not ready for this. I love you little. I wish you could stay tiny forever. I don't want you to grow up.

But I know it's my job to let you.

So I'm going to watch you do it. And I'm going to be proud of every moment. And cherish each of them. Even the little ones. Daddy is sitting across the room from me right now. He is feeding you your bottle. He has your tiny little head cupped in his big strong hand -- you in your cozy pink flowered sleeper and him in his pajamas. He is quietly staring at you. You are staring right back at him. And it melts me. He tells you that you can always have his nipple. He makes me laugh out loud. 

I love this moment. It's one that we won't have back. But how lucky we are that we have a million more to come.

I love you, sweet Avery.

Love,
Mommy

Dear Avery -- 11 days old

Dear Avery,

Before you were even two weeks old, you had already taught me so much. There you were -- tiny little you, just 11 days old and barely 7lbs -- and you were teaching Mommy lessons bigger than I was ready for. And you were completely oblivious to it. 

You taught me that sometimes (not usually but just sometimes) giving up is the right thing to do.

I never believed this before. I'm not a giver-upper. Some may call me stubborn. When I decide I'm going to do something, I do it. It's a quality I quite like about myself actually. I follow through. In fact, I hope you inherit this from me. How do you think I managed to give birth to you naturally? I said I was going to, and so I did.

The first week that we brought you home from the hospital was not easy. It was beautiful, yes. But not easy. My love for you was so sudden, so shocking and so tremendous, I thought I could drown in it. Daddy and I were filled with more joy than we knew what to do with. Then Daddy came down with the flu. That was hard. He wanted so badly to keep you and I healthy that he sacrificed holding you and touching you and being close to you. And boy did he miss you! This broke my heart. And how could I take care of him when I was so overwhelmed by taking care of you? Yes, that first week or so was very hard.

I was committed to breastfeeding you. I had my heart set on it. I bought all the bras and creams and pads. I loved the thought of nourishing you with my own body. 

Only it turns out I wasn't nourishing you. My milk never came in. I don't know why. I gave up on trying to figure it out. All I know is that my little girl wasn't gaining any weight and it broke my heart. We waited it out for 11 days and tried EVERYTHING. It was exhausting and upsetting. And so painful to see you hungry day after day after day. I knew it wasn't supposed to be this way and I couldn't stand it anymore. After a very long weekend of feeding and pumping and supplementing with a medicine syringe and lots and lots of crying, (both me and you) Daddy and I made a decision. We couldn't starve you for another minute. We went straight from the pediatrician's office to Target and bought you a whole car-load full of formula.

And we haven't looked back. You are thriving and happy now. This makes Daddy and I so happy. Looking back on it, I actually wish I had made the switch sooner. I was told the first two weeks of breastfeeding were the hardest. So I was trying to stick it out. Trying to follow through. Keeping my word. 

Being stubborn. 

Now I know there are certain things in life in which trying to be a hero gets you nowhere. There are certain times when giving up is the right thing to do. Feeding your child is one of them. When your daughter is hungry, you feed her. Period.

There are moments now when you ferociously take your bottle in your tiny little mouth and you suck like your life depends on it. Your big wide eyes look right into me and I wonder what you're thinking. I whisper to you my promise over and over again, "Mama's not going to starve you."

I hope you believe me. I love you so much sweet Avery.

Love, 

Mommy