Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Letter to Baby Bean

Hello, dear reader. Baby Bean is now six months old. I wrote this letter to her to include in her scrapbook for her half year birthday.  I debated whether to post it or not, but then I remembered the picture below and I thought, 'well, this is a blog of things I have made...and I did have a hand in making that little thing.'  Granted, I had a little help from Mr. Bean, but she is absolutely the number one thing I've made that I am most proud of so I wanted to share it with you.  And, don't worry.  I won't be doing this very often. I am just a bit sentimental as I have been looking back on the last 6 months. 

Dear Baby, 

I never really thought I would be writing a letter like this. The truth is, I always thought it would be just me and Daddy. That my biological clock was broken and that I wouldn't ever get that feeling most women seem to be born with.  But that moment hit me unexpectedly one night and I told Daddy that I wanted to have a baby. We laughed for a little while because I had never said those words out loud, but then we got excited at the idea of you.  While it wasn't as simple as that, it was that simple.  One day, you were there.  The day we saw your little heart flashing on the ultrasound was the proudest day of my life. I had so much love for that little blinking light that I couldn't hardly breathe. The next 6 weeks were unbearable. The fact that every baby is a mini miracle does not escape me now. That everything has to be perfect - a perfect storm - for this little miracle to happen. For 6 more weeks, we watched the clock ticking by minute by minute.  With each minute it got harder and harder because the idea that you were coming got more and more real.  And then we got overwhelmed at the idea that we had already worried about you and loved you so much already and you weren't even here yet.  We had to wonder what will it be like when you actually are here?  The idea of you is overwhelming. That we are now responsible for your well being. For your education. For your success. But we take this role seriously and we promise to do our best to make sure you can do your best. Deal? Deal.

Your birth was nothing I expected. I could write down all the hospital details but it isn't important anymore. I am sure I will give you plenty of guilt trips later on in your life where I can say "do you know what I went through to have you?" and you will hear all about it then.  The things I want to remember are these.... The moment daddy walked in to the operating room.  Seeing him in the scrubs and knowing we were about to see you. You were taking your time, as if you knew you would be sticking around for a while so what's the rush?  He held my hand the entire time.  We told each other we loved each other.  I kept praying and thanking God for sending me one of His angels. When we heard your cry, we looked at each other and both got teary eyed. We were speechless for a few seconds. Waiting to hear more. Listening to the doctor and nurses. Wondering if everything was OK.  Daddy got to look over the screen and see you first.  I couldn't wait for them to bring you to me.  When they did, it wasn't long enough.  They just showed you to us like a prize.  I was disappointed. I wanted you in my arms and I didn't want to let go. They took you to weigh you and measure you.  'Where were you hiding all this baby?' the doctor asked.  You were a lot bigger than the doctors expected.  When they finally brought you to me, it was an awkward angle and the medicine made me nauseous so I had to give you up again.  This time it was to dad.  I was a bit jealous, but I guess I had you all to myself for so long I am glad he had a moment with you alone.  Then you were off again. They sent us to recovery and we were there waiting for you forever. We waited 41 weeks and 2 days to see you, but this wait? It seemed like an eternity.  We could hear you crying but couldn't see you. And then. Finally. They brought you to us.  I was still shivering but I managed to take a picture of you. Everyone was texting Daddy asking when they could see you, so we decided to send a picture. I didn't realize at the time how beautiful you looked in that picture. I do now. But we sent it with just your name. We don't know what the reaction was. I wish we could have seen it. But Uncle Billy texted back and said "it is pretty emotional out here" so I knew everyone was touched by seeing you for the first time and seeing your name for the first time. Funny how a simple text could mean so much, but at that moment when I hit 'send', it felt real. You were actually here.

Finally I was cleared to be sent to my room. As they were rolling me down the hall I could see everyone standing at the nursery looking at you. It was surreal. So many times I have been the one standing by the nursery looking at another baby. But this time it was my baby. And it was my baby that people were there for. We still had to wait another hour for you. And then, just like that, they rolled you into our room. And you were ours. There were a few more tears at the sight of you. Everyone had only seen you from a distance, watching how brave you were in the nursery.  After everyone left and all the nurses were gone, Daddy and I just looked at you and looked at each other. We were in awe of you. It was about 3:30 in the morning by then. And then. As if on cue, you pooped.  And then it got really real. :) Daddy had to unwrap your perfect swaddle the nurses left you in. I suddenly realized the last diaper I had changed was at least a decade ago. Daddy realized the last diaper he had changed was Uncle Billy's. But we figured it out. And I feel like we are still figuring things out. 

These past six months, the three of us have been through the roller coaster of all roller coasters. These past six months have been the most difficult thing Daddy and I have ever done in our lives. But one little smile from you makes me feel like the three of us can do anything together. Your smiles in the morning are better than any Starbucks grande non-fat hazelnut latte with whip.  Well. Most mornings. I wish I already had all the answers.  I wish I already knew what to do every time you cry. I am sorry you have to be our little guinea pig.  But you have a forgiving soul. I can see it in your eyes. You have a sense of humor. I can see that in your smile. And you have sense of adventure. I can hear that in your laugh. So, thank you for going on this crazy ride with me and Daddy. We don't deserve you, but we will spend our lifetime trying to prove that we do. 



Anonymous said...

Your post made me cry at my desk this morning! Z is so adorable and lucky to have great parents like you and Mr. Bean. Can't wait to see you all, but in the meantime, Auntie Sarah's sending Z her latest fashion infusion and a few things for you! : )

Titi said...

That made me cry! EB would surely plagiarize it!

Anita said...

Awwwwww this made me cry too! I'm sure this post will be one of her most treasured possessions one day. Just beautiful. :)