Dear Baby #2

Dear Baby,

Today you're 14 weeks (3.5 months) old inside of me.

I want to write to you periodically because I'm not sure how much writing I'll get to do once you actually get here in six short or long months.

I started writing to your brother when he was just 18 weeks old. I wrote to him almost monthly until he was two. I'm sorry to say little one I can't promise the same, or even close to it, but I think I'll come up with something else; something special just for you.

Last weekend while I was laying on the couch I felt you flutter and squirm and thrash inside me and I. was. so. excited! The best part if that was that your Daddy got to feel you too - and if you every have children some day, you will know how rare it is for a Daddy to feel his baby kick so early!

I marvel at how relaxed I am this time around - how I'm more excited and less scared. I joke that your brother was my guinea pig that we practiced on. Based on how well he's turned out so far, I think your Daddy and I have done a pretty good job.

Now that I've passed the all-out-nausea and exhaustion I'm reveling in my steadily growing belly - knowing it's because you're in there!

I think about you constantly. And I still think you're a girl and please, please, please forgive me if you're not.

Love,

Mama

xoox

Dear Noah - 24 Months

Today you're two-years old.

And I must say, that since these letters will peter off in the coming months, especially when your brother or sister arrives, I think we'll have to spaces these out. I've missed a few months - I think June, July and August - and after this, we may not have another for awhile - I hope you're not too disappointed.

So! A week before your actual birthday we had a little party at our house. Although you had no idea what was going on, you seemed excited by all the people who came - your grandparents and friends. You were quite the show-off.

Daddy and I spent the day before labouring over the infamous "dump truck cake" that you thought was a real dump truck that you could play with.

The best part about that cake was seeing your face light up as we all sang Happy Birthday (as you say, "Happy you...happy you") and you tried to blow out the candles - twice!

You got lots of presents - favourites a week later include the loud, obnoxious truck from Grandma Darling & Papa Larry; the dye-cast red car from Daddy and the stuffed monkey named George from me.

It warms me beyond WORDS that you drag him around by the hand, kiss his mouth, and pat him on the back and say, "Hi George, hi George."

You love him to bits, as I hoped you would.

You speak in two and three word sentences now. You have very dintinct opinions and are curious beyond words about what things are how they work why they do what they do.

You're not much into eating - which is such a shame! - and dinners have become all out brawls; entertaining, but exhausting.

With just 6 months until the arrival of your sibling, we're going to ask Santa to bring you a brand new bed - so your brother or sister can sleep in your crib. We're hoping to have all the bedtime kinks out by March.

Potty training won't be far behind, but funnily enough, bum changing has never been a big deal to me; so if you decide to wait, I'm down with that.

Although you did go pee in the potty - asking and going all without being provoked - just a day before your birthday.

You're a goer and I still miss my tiny little snuggly baby. Don't get me wrong, you're loving beyond words - you love whole-heartedly and completely - you just don't sit around very long to allow us to love you!

Happy second birthday the sweetest of the sweetest boys in all the land.

You're a wonder and a joy to Daddy and I.

Love,

Mommy

xoxoxo

Dear Trudy

* I wrote this a long time ago. I find all the "balme," "makes me," very interesting when I look at it today. I still think it's a good read though, has some merit - and I feel sad for the "old" me.

It’s amazing how one negative word can wound you for life. Make you feel hopeless and worthless and doubtful of your every ability.

But compliments are another thing. It takes 10 compliments, 10 words of praise, encouragement or positive reinforcement to erase those negative ones. And even still, a shiny, pink puckered scar remains; a constant reminder of those words and who you could have been, had they never been uttered.

To this day I can’t remember why I loved either of them. To this day, my face in those pictures is like looking at another person, in another life. Like time travel, without the emotional baggage. But then again, that’s not entirely true either. Although I can’t distinctly remember why I loved, why I cried, I worshiped and all but groveled for their love and attention, I do remember that scary feeling of being completely out of control. Balls to those that say you can’t unwittingly give your control to anyone without your consent. Love doesn’t work that way. Or should I say the obsession with euphoria doesn’t work that way. Like an addict I chased that feeling of euphoria I got when I was wanted and needed by someone. Only, the feeling backfired on me and then I became the one driven for the attention.

So pathetic. Mousy. I’m mortified to think of who I was, how I unknowingly morphed into this “yes” girl, this girl with blond streaks and “church outfits” stacked in her closet. The girl who smiled to their face and rolled her eyes behind her back and screamed in her head that they were weak to count on God and to be afraid of their sins.

I was at constant war with myself for three years. I struggled to be true to me, but conform, be good, be subservient, be pure - a struggle anyone would be doomed to fail. For three years I would drive my raspberry sports car two hours west to his parents trailer-like home, with its filthy bathroom littered with manure-scented clothes and cow-themed kitchen. Nestled on the back seat would be a dozen chocolate chip cookies, brownies or some other peace offering I always felt compelled to bring along. As if it would make up for the fact that their only son was dating a “non-Christian” as if those sweet little treats would erase the fact that in their eyes, I was tarnishing their little boy and intentionally steering him away from the Lord and handing him over to the devil himself.

Mealtime with his family was always awkward, but I was a quick learner. After the first outing, when I inadvertently kept talking after the appetizers were served, not realizing we had to hold hands, bow our heads and give thanks, I knew when to keep my mouth shut. I wasn’t so much embarrassed with praying in public, it was the holding hands that sent me over the edge. And it seemed they did it out of habit, out of fear, more than actual thanks. I hated holding hands with. I hated touching his mother’s soft, perfumed hands reeking of judgment and disapproval. I hated the way she pretended to like me to my face. Pretended to be the good Christian wife. The wife that was forced to marry at 17, because her own parents were afraid she would have pre-marital sex. The wife that was arrogant in her “godly” status and confident that her Christianity made her better than me and every other poor unseeing person.

She never reached out to me. Never tried to help me learn what she knew - what was so fan-tastic about God and His ways and His work. I asked one question after church, the one and only Bible-related question - because her answer, told me what she thought of me.

"Why do we need to be saved?"

She looked up at me from across the table over her runny eggs and replied, "From hell, of course." She could have added, "You stupid little shit." on the end for all that her tone implied.

Of course we weren’t allowed to sleep in the same bed when I visited. I slept in his room, on see-thru sheets dotted with baseball gloves and bats and a flat, stained pillowcase. I could hear the wind rattle and wheeze through the windows and see the faint red of the flashing stop sign reflected on the walls. I would lie there and listen and wrack my brain for an explanation as to what made them so special, what did they have that I didn’t, besides God? Besides God, why did it seem to me that no matter how nice I was, no matter how many times I went to church, to bible school, to picnics and parties, no matter what I did it just wasn’t good enough?

There were too many moments to count. Too many instances that told me that the odds were stacked against me. However, it somehow became blindingly clear when his mother called my house, looking for her son – who had already left – and asked me what my testimonial was, knowing full well, I didn’t have one. The almighty testimony, of how I found God. How I was saved from a bleak existence, from a desolate life wrought with blackness that only a soul without God could have. It’s funny how I don’t exactly remember the conversation, other than guiltily admitting that I didn’t have a testimonial and in her eyes, all but saying I was a devil-worshiper. What I do remember though, is hanging up the phone, throwing it across the living room and bursting into tears. She hurt me in a way that I didn't know I could be hurt.

The funny part of the whole story, the real kicker, the irony is I never lead him away from God. He led himself - eventually. After the relationship took a nosedive it was he who began seeking solace in strangers in bars and driving home drunk. It was he who got arrested for stupidly taking mail from his job at a post office home to sort, who got arrested, charged and sentenced to house arrest. And like the good little Christian boy he was, he found his way back. And I had nothing to do with him going, or choosing to return.

I think about her often. I wonder if in me, she saw herself, what she could have been, had she not married in her teens; if she wasn't raised to judge so harshly (even I know the old Bible verse) "Just lest ye be judged." Obviously she missed THAT one completely.

And yet I was judged from the very moment her son told her I was a "non-Christian".

I blame her for tainting my relationship with God, today. I blame her for me being leery of Christians' motives, their kindness, their and out-reaching spirit - all of which, I know now, she should have shown me all along - that IS the way it's supposed to be.

God bless you Trudy, may I endeavour to grow as a Christian and be nothing like you.

Dear Noah - 22 Months

Dear Noah,

So here's the story - and you'll probably read it and go, "Ew, Mom, really? I didn't NEED to know that!" But hear your mother out.

Your Dad and I have been trying - just for the last month - to give you a baby brother or sister (and you're welcome, for me only going THAT far with that particular topic - at least for now, anyway).

I'm not pregnant yet, but all the leading up to the GETTING pregnant has lead to a multitude of muddled and murky thoughts and feelings.

I've had mixed emotions about another baby. It's not to say that I haven't wanted to give you this and give another little person to your dad and I; to our family. On the contrary, since you slept through the night and I stopped being cra-zy, I've wanted this for all of us.

But the mixed emotions are from my own self doubt about my abilities as a mom, and maybe your feelings about being a big brother.

I worry that you will not want a little brother or sister, that you will resent the fact that Daddy and I can't be at your beck and call as we have been for your whole existence. I worry that you lash out, you will become a little devil in order to get our attention.

Since I don't know what it's like to have a sibling, I worry that bringing another person into your life will change you negatively.

Yet, deep down I KNOW in my heart that you will LOVE your little sibling. Just as you loved your cousin Audrey when she visited. You could. not. get. enough of her. You watched her and touched her and kissed her and were just fascinated with this little person - who, oddly enough to you, was smaller than you. I'm sure there will be a learning curve for us all, but I know in the end, you will love him or her...because you do it so easily.

I know you will get concerned when the baby cries, you will itch to kiss him or her and help Mommy and Daddy with dirty diapers and feeding. And that you will love to show him or her how to do all the things that his or her big brother already knows how to do.

As for you Mister, big words are flying out of your mouth and if you can't say them you try and try and try to sound them out.

Watch is a new word, that sounds a lot like "Wassss" and it's just adorable. You also say, "hi", "GG", and "Nana," "Why (as in Super Why!)", "Mess," and "Busssssssss."1

Your favourite show, Super Why! has come in handy in teaching you to sound out words, "What letter makes the sound buhhhhhh?" and you inevitably repeat, "buhhhhh."

You're also fascinated with watching videos of yourself when you were littler. I can see the little wheels turning behind your big, brown eyes. Knowing, instinctively that it's YOU, but not REALLY understanding how that's even possible.

You are still so smart and happy and wide-eyed with an innocence that I hope you hold on to until you're 20 - just kidding...

Happy 20 months, Noah...you are mommy's sunshine.

Love,

Mama

Dear Noah - 21 Months

Woah! This was the month of the sickies! Yikes! It was like it was December - height of the cold, flu and stomach bug season in our house!

You were sick three times this past month - the first of which, we think you caught it from Daddy and I (sorry) - and you were sent home from Linda's because you threw up all over yourself. I was away on a course in Barrie and was frantic to get home to you. When I did finally get home, you seemed like your old, happy, cheery self and then you got coughing on a glass of water and you promptly threw up all over yourself again. You cried and then pointed to the remnants of a handful of crackers that had just been in your tummy and said, "Mess? Mess?" It broke my heart.

You do that often in a day. You, just being you, are a heartbreaker...I don't know if you'll ever truly know how much we love you - me especially, I love you more than Daddy - just kidding.

The next time you were sick was just a few days later. Your dad and I were woken just before 1 a.m. to you screaming your head off. As soon as I opened your bedroom door I could smell it - the vomit. I picked you up and cleaned you off, while Daddy cleaned the floor and your bed.

You were so very, very sad.

The third time you were sick you woke up and were, just off. You felt warm to the touch and were clingy. We dropped you off at Linda's anyway and she called me about two hours later saying you were sick

And boy oh boy oh boy were you EVER.

I have never seen you this sick and you truly, scared me something fierce.

You had a fever of 102 and spiked at the doctor's office somewhere around 103.2...

You were listless, immobile and although I loved the snuggles, they weren't worth seeing you so very sick.

Dr. Ibey said you had a mild ear infection and if you weren't better by the next day, to give you a prescription.

I brought you home and you and I laid on the couch. You laid on me like a newborn and barely showed interest in the vanilla shake or the cartoons on the TV. You and I fell asleep a short time later and I put you to bed early where you slept for FIFTEEN HOURS!

And, in true Noah fashion, you woke up right as rain. And all was well in our worlds again.

On to the happy stuff...

Words abound out of your mouth. Your Dad and I sat down one night and started compiling a list of your words and were surprised to discover there are more than 25 words in your vocabulary. Among those words is, of course, mess, sha-sha (for Truck), noooo (you elongate the word and say it so softly), yesss (another elongated word), hi, bye, bus, book, push, poke, etc...even Dr. Ibey was impressed.

It's as if you've turned over this new leaf into boyhood and words and abilities are just non-stop.

You make us so proud!

But let's get to the nitty-gritty...sometimes...daily...in MY opinion, you're behaviour is very um, undesirable - to say the least. Now let me just say, that apparently all this thrashing, slapping (of yourself and others), and all out fit-throwing is normal and natural. That contorting your body in such a way so that I cannot remove your pee and poop filled diaper is all apart of growing up.

And Mommy doesn't like it. Not one. Little. Bit.

Time Outs are daily - pretty much. There even twice and three times daily - depending on your mood.

I know that this is only the tip of the preverbal iceberg. That. Oh. My. GOD it gets so much worse, but child you test my patience.

And it's laughable. That I scold you over and over and over and bloody over until I'm blue in the face - "Noah, DO NOT HIT." And what did I do this morning, when you were kicking me with your sandaled feet, kicking the wall to make the animal hooks fall on your head - I whacked you on the upper thigh.

There goes leading by example, folks.

Screwed that one up royally.

However, it DID get your attention. What I was NOT getting by raising my voice, speaking to you calmly, holding your face in my hand and demanding you look at me - no, that slap on the thigh got it - immediately.

Sigh.

I'm new at this - obviously - and sorry to say it, but I'm working the kinks out on this parenting thing with you, Noah.

And, can I say, so far, I think me and your dad have done a decent job, because after all the fit-throwing is said and done, you do what you're told. You do brush your teeth, you pick up those books, you put those clothes back on the chair...you eventually, do listen...so by GOD we must be doing something right!

And really, all joking aside...your personality is so honest to goodness pure and sweet.

Your kindness melts me inside - when you kissed Elea after you accidentally pulled some toys down on her; when you gave Danielle a toy after you took it away; when you grab my face in your little hands and run them down my cheeks (just like I do to you) - I know that you're a beautiful soul.

Happy 21 months, Boo (a new nickname) - stop growing immediately!

Love,

Mommy

xoxo

Dear Noah - 20 months

Dear Noah,

So here's the story - and you'll probably read it and go, "Ew, Mom, really? I didn't need to know that!" But hear your mother out.

Your Dad and I have been trying - just for the last month - to give you a baby brother or sister (and you're welcome, for me only going into that much detail with that particular topic - at least for now, anyway).

I'm not pregnant yet, but all the leading up to the getting pregnant has lead to a multitude of muddled and murky thoughts and feelings.

I've had mixed emotions about another baby. It's not to say that I haven't wanted to give you this and give another little person to your dad and I; to our family. On the contrary, since you slept through the night and I stopped being cra-zy, I've wanted this for all of us.

But the mixed emotions are from my own self doubt about my abilities as a mom, and maybe your feelings about being a big brother.

I worry that you will not want a little brother or sister, that you will resent the fact that Daddy and I can't be at your beck and call as we have been for your whole existence. I worry that you lash out, you will become a little devil in order to get our attention.

Since I don't know what it's like to have a sibling, I worry that bringing another person into your life will change you negatively.

Yet, deep down I know in my heart that you will love your little sibling. Just as you loved your cousin Audrey when she visited. You could. not. get. enough of her. You watched her and touched her and kissed her and were just fascinated with this little person - who, oddly enough to you, was smaller than you. I'm sure there will be a learning curve for us all, but I know in the end, you will love him or her...because you do it so easily.

I know you will get concerned when the baby cries, you will itch to kiss him or her and help Mommy and Daddy with dirty diapers and feeding. And that you will love to show him or her how to do all the things that his or her big brother already knows how to do.

As for you Mister, big words are flying out of your mouth and if you can't say them you try and try and try to sound them out.

Watch is a new word, that sounds a lot like "Wassss" and it's just adorable. You also say, "hi", "GG", and "Nana," "Why (as in Super Why!)", "Mess," and "Busssssssss."1

Your favourite show, Super Why! has come in handy in teaching you to sound out words, "What letter makes the sound buhhhhhh?" and you inevitably repeat, "buhhhhh."

You're also fascinated with watching videos of yourself when you were littler. I can see the little wheels turning behind your big, brown eyes. Knowing, instinctively that it's you, but not really understanding how that's even possible.

You are still so smart and happy and wide-eyed with an innocence that I hope you hold on to until you're 20 - just kidding...

Happy 20 months, Noah...you are mommy's sunshine.

Love,

Mama

Dear Noah - 19 months

Dear Noah,

Oh my sweet little monkey boy.

You are so painfully smart - it KILLS me. You love to talk - some "real" words, some made up ones, but you are such a chatterbox. You make the effort to repeat words back to Daddy and I a lot. You say the word "bus" a lot, which comes out sounding like "bess", which, is seriously the cutest - ever.

You try to say everything we do, like "down" which sounds like "dahhhhhh" - and "watch" which sounds like "waahh-ssss" - you're just awesome.

Your favourite things to do almost every single morning is read. When Daddy or I go in to get you in the mornings you point over to your dresser of books and jabber - we give you a book and you'll happily sit in bed and chatter and "read" your books. It's just darling.

But there's a darker, almost sinister side of you that, honestly, sometimes scares me a bit.

Your dad and I have been putting you in time out now for the last month. Until recently, it had been in your crib - to keep you contained, safe and let you blow off steam if you were having a meltdown - which, MY OH MY you do!

Now, we've decided, since you think time out in bed is jump and play time that its lost the whole meaning, we've got a time out rug for you.

We plop you down on a round carpet from your room we've put in the dining room and order you to stay put for time out.

The first time we did this you whined a bit, then played with and talked to your toes, but didn't move - we were amazed!

Then the "newness" of the time out wore off and you began standing, or trying to get off the rug. I held you there once. Tightly - so tightly I thought I was hurting you - but you fought. me. so. hard...you test my patience boy...

And the creepiest, yet funniest thing you've done while in time out is stare me down with dirty, stink eye and then lightly slap yourself and pull your hair...you are so ANGRY and aren't sure how to release it...I hope you find a proper and acceptable outlet for your anger that's not directed at me or your daddy.

It scares me that you'll forever kick, slap, pinch and pull when you're frustrated, angry or just plain can't get your way...and it's only because I'm new at this parenting thing that I have these (I'm sure crazy sounding) thoughts.

I worry you'll never get in "control" of yourself and will wildly loose your shitz when someone, anyone says no...but I have faith that you'll learn the right and wrong way to let your anger out...

You celebrated your second Easter at Grandma GGs and had a blast with all your cousins who just, utterly ADORE you. They think you are just so amazing. Constantly saying, "Noah look. Noah come here. Noah see this...Noah, Noah, Noah..." I love how much you're loved.

You also fell backwards into GG's little pond. You scared yourself (AND ME) something fierce!

Thank God when you fell backwards, one leg was hanging out of the pond, otherwise you would have gone all the way in for sure.

When you fell I was there in a flash - like Super Mommy - I scooped you up, soaked clothes and all and you cried and clung to me so scared.

I was scared too. Your life flashed before my eyes...

GG was trying to play it off like a fun accident, so you wouldn't be any more scared than you already were...I didn't say much, I just held you SO tight.

Also at Easter it was some noisy - you'll learn fast that Mommy's side of the family are big, loud mouths - lol. You had trouble sleeping with all the laughter and hollering, so I went up (more than once) to comfort you. We had some nice snuggles - I laid you on GG's bed with me and you fell asleep - I loved that so much. You tried so hard to stay awake, but couldn't - your brown eyes rolling in the back of your head...it was just awesome.

Love,

Mommy

xoxoxo

PS. You've gone poo in the potty - TWICE!