Wednesday, January 12, 2011
A letter to welcome a new family member
I knew you were there.
This isn't my first or even second time around this crazy, wonderful, unbelievable ride, and I certainly didn't need a little plus sign on a stick to tell me you were there. I knew it. It was that old familiar feeling, the uncomfortable queasiness that is definitely NOT from bad scallops or one glass of wine too many or anything else... no, it's a feeling all its own. And it's undeniable. But I did deny it, and I'm sorry for that.
For about 3 weeks, I knew you were there and pretended you weren't. It was all a little bit shocking, as we were still in the middle of that "Will we or won't we have three?" conversation (though we both knew the answer) and I don't think I handled it very well. Please don't be upset, it's not that I wasn't happy or excited or anything like that- I was just scared.
Scared of what? Pretty much everything. Scared I don't know what I'm doing, scared I'll scar you for life with something I did or didn't say or do, scared that 3 carseats won't fit in my backseat, scared of rocking the nicely sailing boat that is our current family life, scared I won't be able to give you and your siblings the time and attention you need and deserve, scared my going-to-work-in-a-fancy-suit days not to mention my going-to-the-beach-in-a-two-piece-bathing-suit days may be gone forever, scared I'll never get out of this house again. Just plain scared.
And then I heard it.
The unmistakable sound of your heart, that thump-thump-thump-thump beating so much faster than my own, and I realized maybe I'm not the only one who's scared. Maybe you're scared of what you've gotten yourself into. Scared of who you've gotten yourself into. Scared about those two lovable but loud little rugrats who seem to be in constant motion. Scared of what kind of life you'll find yourself in when you leave the cozy confines of your current inn. Just plain scared.
So let's be scared together. Let's face it, we're going to be doing pretty much everything together for the next few months, so we'd best team up. We can do this little one, that much I promise.
And I promise you that this time, I'll try not to complain quite as much about the swollen feet, the backaches and the other unmentionables. (If at all possible, I'd really appreciate it if you could not try to kick your way out via my ribs as was the case with your siblings, but I know your current floorplan is somewhat limited.) I promise to slow down a little bit and really try to savor what's happening when it's happening, instead of always reaching for what's ahead or dwelling on what's behind.
But most of all, I can promise you love. Love that is sometimes messy, never perfect but always unconditional.
I heard your heartbeat and I hope you can hear mine too, because I think we're both saying the same thing: Love me. Maybe I'm not what you expected, but love me anyway.
More than anything, it was that little thump-thump-thump-thump that I recognized right away. It's the song that's always been in my heart.
I knew you were there.
Baby #3 is due in mid June 2011.