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

Dear Avery -- 4 months old

Dear Avery,

You are 4 months old now. You are rolling all over the place, cooing to your "friends", reaching for your toys, trying to hold your bottle on your own, smiling at every new face and always, always laughing at your daddy.

Right now you are sleeping away in your crib, Daddy is on the road, the snow is falling and the house is quiet.

Next week Daddy and I are going away on a trip. I wish you could come with us. But you wouldn't like it very much. It will be hot and sandy and unfamiliar. And your toys wouldn't fit in our suitcase anyway.

So you will stay with Nana and Papa. I know you will love it there. They will shower you with hugs and cuddles and kisses. They will feed you and sing to you and play with you and read you bedtime stories. They will love you to pieces every minute of every day that we are gone.

I'm hoping you won't even miss us. I pray that you are too young to recognize our absence and that you will just be happy to be fed and bathed and loved. I think this is going to be a whole lot harder for me than it will be for you. I'm going to hate leaving you. It's going to just break my heart. 

But I promise to come back. And when I do, I will be rested, rejuvenated and even more in love with your daddy than I already am. I'll also be more in love with you. I will be full of energy and ready to give you my undivided attention and cherish all of our little moments together. I can't wait for that giant toothless smile of yours and those big bright eyes to welcome me home. I am going to swoop you right up and hold you close to me and kiss you all over. 

And you won't even remember that I was ever gone.

I love you.

Love,

Mommy.

Dear Avery -- Tummy Bug :(

Dear Avery,

It's been a rough week. You are sick with a tummy bug and it just seems to be lingering and lingering. Daddy had to go away to Maine for work so it's just me and you, sweetheart. 

Last night was the worst of it. (I hope) There I was with you in the bathroom. Both of us dripping in puke. A puddle on the floor. Your diaper filled with diarrhea. Your body arched in pain. Your screams breaking my heart. Your little helpless face begging me to fix it.

And it hit me.

This is motherhood. Raw and pure and true. This is what it's all about. I'm not a doctor. I'm not a magician. I have neither a prescription pad nor a magic wand. I can't always just make it all go away. The only thing I have to offer you is a mother's love. 

And in that smelly, messy, panicky moment, I had never loved you more. 

My job as your mother is to love the hell out of you. Literally. Love that tummy bug HELL right out of you. And so that's what I'm going to do. No matter how many sleepless nights, dirty diapers and loads of laundry it takes, I am going to love you back to health.

After I got us all cleaned up, I called Auntie Shannon to come over with some medicine. And then I wrapped you up in a towel and I held you close to me. And loved you.

By the time she got here, you were all smiles again. My happy little girl. The tummy bug isn't gone yet. You still don't feel so good. But even so, you are happy. 

And let me tell you, you are so very loved. 

Love,

Mommy

Dear Avery -- 3 1/2 months old

Dear Avery,

Yesterday you had your very first big BUMP. You hit that beautiful little head of yours on the family room floor. HARD!!! You screamed bloody murder. Even a dance with your daddy in the mirror didn't make you all better.

It wasn't like I had my back turned or anything. We were playing together on your playmat. I was holding your hands! But still, it happened. And boy did I feel terrible. I'm your mother -- isn't it my job to protect you???

The answer to that, I'm afraid, is yes and no. Unfortunately that won't be your last bump in life. I wish I could spare you from all pain, but the reality is you will have your fair share of skinned knees, stubbed toes and broken hearts just like everybody else. I can do everything in my power to cushion your falls (and I will!) but I can't always stop you from falling.

What I can do, though, is hold you close, rock you in my arms and kiss away your tears when you do fall. That's what I did for you yesterday. 

And it's what I will do for you forever and ever. I love you so much sweet girl.

Love,

Mommy

Dear Avery -- Happy 2009!

Dear Avery,

How do I sum up 2008? A year of excitement. A year of wonder. A year of anticipation. 2008 was a year of big changes in the world. Our first black president. The tanking of the economy. Michael Phelps defining new limits.

It was a year of big changes in my world too. It was the year I became a mother. It was the year I got to watch Daddy fall in love all over again. 2008 was the year of you.

How could 2009 ever top that? Well that's the best part. 2009 will be the year of you too. It will be the year of your first steps and your first words and your first birthday. It will hold so many treasures for us. And so will 2010 and 2011 and 2012 and so on and so on.

Every year will be the year of you. Your are ours forever. I really am the luckiest mommy on earth.

I love you.

Love,

Mommy