Friday, 2 August 2013

Dear Fraggle

In case you didn't get the memo, I FINALLY gave birth to my tiny human a few weeks ago.  (Wait, has it been four weeks already? What the hell? Is she driving yet? Has she graduated?  Is she married?)

Although I have been saving a ton of blog material in this pathetic messy brain of mine, who knows if I'll ever find time/energy to expel it from my mind onto the interwebs.

So, I'll start with this one post, this one thing I've wanted to write for a long, long time - a letter to my darling daughter.

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Dear Fraggle,

My god, I had no idea having you would be like this.  Nobody could have prepared me for it.  It doesn't seem to matter what people said or how they tried to warn me - the overwhelming nature of growing, birthing, and loving you has been, well, indescribable.

Sure, your life inside me was tricky for both of us, and for Hubby too, but my god I loved you.  I talked to you all the time, I sang you "I Will" by The Beatles on a daily basis, I imagined what you looked like, I adored when you moved inside me, and, above all, I worried about you pretty much every minute of every day.

And then you came out, in a flurry of (holy super painful) labour and only a few quick pushes. You came out and the nurse plopped you on my chest, and all I could really think was "wow, she's bigger than I thought she was."  Seven pounds eight ounces, with the cutest little face and ohmygosh so much long dark hair.  And those big brown eyes looking up at me.  And then Daddy cut your cord and before I knew it we were parents.

That first week was, (well, Fraggle dear, I'm always going to be honest with you) one of the hardest things we've ever done. Trying to feed you, laying crooked in a hospital bed opening my eyes every 5 minutes to look at you through that clear plastic bassinet, coming home and camping out in a not-dark-enough and anxiety-cloaked bedroom for days on end trying to figure out how the heck to keep you safe.

But then, then there was a light.  Slowly, very slowly, some weird normalcy began to emerge unlike any "normal" I have ever known.  A new normal where nothing else in the world matters as much as you do, and where Hubby and I truly rely on each other in a way we never had before, finding a way to exist as your parents rather than whoever those two fools had been beforehand.  I woke up the other night wondering, where is the grown up that is supposed to be caring for this child?

Now, honey, you'll be four weeks old on Monday.  I have no idea where this time has gone, or how I managed to survive it, but I'm starting to see what everyone was trying to tell me.  It was worth it.  All of it.  Because you are the most lovely, sweetest little baby known to humanity and it aches my heart how much I love you.  You are the most beautiful thing I've ever done. It kills me when you cry, and it warms me when your eyes gaze at mine.  And this week, when I was feeding you, you held my hand...

I love everything about you.  I love your jazz hands (aka newborn reflex), and your "ET phone home" (aka burping bliss), and even your giggle-cries (like Dick Van Dyke floating on the ceiling in Mary Poppins) and your monkey scream (which sometimes sounds more like a Michael Jackson "Ah hoo hoo").  I've watched your hair lighten, and watched your eyes shift from dark brown, to a deep sea blue that I can't describe, to now a grey blue that mesmerizes me, just like Hubby's.

I promise, no matter what, I will keep watching.  Be patient with me, though I'm not perfect, not even close.  But I will always do my best.  I will be there, for everything, all the time. I will support you, no matter what, without judgement.  I will hold your hand, and teach you things, and take you places, and adore you, unconditionally, forevermore.

Love always,
Mom


13 comments:

  1. Beautiful. You're a natural and she's so lucky to have both of you for her parents. xo LB

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  2. Dude, that is motherhood! You totally brought me back to my baby days. Thanks for making me broody. Please note sarcasm, I can't afford broody. Good thing hubby is snipped. Wait for it though, as she gets older your going to begin to feel a bit bipolar in the love/dislike department. As in their actions, not them as human beings. And it can happen within seconds, not just days. They're crafty little monsters like that. My 15 yr old has me wanting to squish him like a two year old for how sweet and amazing he can be, to wanting him to be 18 so I can kick his know-it-all arse out of the house so he can see how fabulous it is without rules, having to fend for himself. The twisted thing about parenthood is, I wouldn't change it for anything. Maybe sleep.

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    1. I've no doubt the teenage years will be, um, challenging to say the least. I I dread the day she decides she hates me, resents me, wants very little to do with me...

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    2. Truth, the day she decides she hates you (this is me knowing what a wonderful person you are), will be the day you know you are doing something right. My eldest started that at oh gosh, 2 whenever he didn't get his way. I just told him we don't hate, we strongly dislike, and I loved him anyways. Then again, at 13, which is when I said, "good, I guess I'm doing something right." He was grounded from electronics for doing something he wasn't supposed to, or not doing his chores. Not sure which now.

      Truth, that child of yours (again, this is me knowing what a fab person you are), will never resent or have nothing to do with you. Ok, I take some of that back. there may be a time in their teens that they do want to have nothing to do with you. Or I should say make it look like they want nothing to do with you. Some business about needing to spread their wings. I call it, "the stupid years". But if you play your cards right they'll come crying back when they're 20 saying how wrong they were and wish they listened to you lol

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  3. Congratulations, Marianna! That love letter is beautiful. Sound like you and your hubby are on a wonderful journey! And the sleep will surely come soon ;-p

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    1. Sleep soon, from your finger tips to goddess' ears...

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  4. I love this letter! You nailed it! Being a parent isn't easy. It is the hardest thing you will do, but it is very rewarding in the end. I am glad you survived the first month. It does get easier from here! :)

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    1. For some reason it *is* harder than I thought it would be. Not that I didn't know it would be hard, but the range and depth and variation of the difficulty is surprising...

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  5. #$%^%^* you for making me cry.

    (So beautiful <3)

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  6. Congratulations on the safe arrival of your beautiful girl. I wish you joy in dreaming of the woman she will someday be. Remember to enjoy the journey.

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  7. And now that I've read this post, I've had second thoughts about giving life to a new human being. :)

    -Barb

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