With all that we have going on in our family, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep up a monthly letter to you for as long as I did with your brother. I’m going to take it one month at a time, though, and give it a try. Because I always want to remember these baby days, and if I don’t stop to get a few words down, they’ll slip by all too fast. From experience, I also know that even if I write something, they still will. Because there’s no way to save everything. And some things may actually be better left unsaved, too, like all the spit-up, dirty diapers or sleepless nights, for instance. I’m good with forgetting all that.

I am still so proud and grateful for the birth that we had. Your first action in this world was to give an amazing gift to your mommy– confidence and trust in my body and myself that went beyond what I had ever imagined before. You surprised me coming early, and you surprised me by being a boy. You’ve already taught me to let my expectations go, to sit back and just take you for who you are. To cherish these moments with you, and with our family.

You were born with your hand by your face, and you don’t seem happy without a hand or two brushing your cheek or chin almost constantly. As I choose photographs of you to share, the ones without the curled presence of your hand in view seem off somehow. You don’t like being swaddled, and if I dare move your hand away from its natural resting spot, you screw up your face and wind up for a scream. I usually put it back before you hit full volume. Usually.

You are growing before my very eyes. I’ve spent so much time resting on the couch these last few weeks, with you on my chest or across my lap. I find myself unable to keep from touching you, your soft cheek, that downy hair, those tiny, silky palms and fingers. I have studied you daily. Your face started off so closed, so small. And in mere days, you have become so alert, so strong, so loud in your grunts and expressions of dissatisfaction. Those hands are already so much bigger to me. Your weight pressing that much heavier against my torso. I have no worries about your weight gain or your growth curve. You are thriving. And I am already forgetting the extreme smallness of your earliest days.

You grunt and stretch and squirm like all newborn babies do. You make these faces in your sleep that has us all wondering what you’re dreaming. When you’re awake and quiet, you form your mouth in such a way that catches our breath because you look so much like you have something really important to share with us, if only you could just remember the words. You smile and even laugh in your sleep. The most amazing sound to come out of you, though, has to be the burps. I’ve never heard such frat party burps come from such a little vessel. You get so cranky when I forget to burp you, and sometimes those burps just come out on their own from a shift in position. Your dad and I are often surprised by your burps, and most certainly impressed.

You know what you want, what you need. And for now, most of it’s pretty much wrapped up in the mommy package. You mostly tolerate your big brother’s insistent kisses and cuddles. You were great settling in with your grandparents and auntie, but it’s taken you some time to actually warm up to your own daddy. You’re getting there, the two of you, and I’m so grateful for that, but it makes my heart so happy when all I need to do is speak softly in your ear as I lift you up, and like magic, the screaming stops, your breathing calms and you just listen. Sometimes it’s just for a moment before you refocus on whatever the pressing need might be, but I know it’s because you have been feeling my love for so much longer than these four short weeks, and mine is the presence you know best. You are a lucky little boy, to have so much love, and I am super crazy lucky to be first among all those people you have in your life to supply it.

Love,
Mommy

• Half asleep: “Where’s my ear?”
• Me: “I love you.” M: “I love myself, too!”
• Me: “You can’t have that medicine.” M: “But I have an ache!”
• “I’m an old guy. I need some sleep.”
• “Roger b’dodger!” Before shooting you in the kneecaps with a Nerf dart, “Irish Style.”
• “Is my brain thinking about stuff?” (me: yeah, probably) “Stop thinking about stuff, brain!”
• Singing: “I always love you, Mommy. And I love myself. Whenever I can. Because it’s great!”
• “Sweet dreams, woman.”
• “Wow my penis is getting big. That means I should hold it I think.”
• “I think you got a little brain in your eye. It’s right there in that part next to your nose.”
• Choosing a lollipop at the bank: “I’ll have a watermelon one, and Mommy can have the hash-brown one.”
• To Daddy: “Hey, you look like a wookiee!”
• “A salad–with dress-up!”
• “It’s time for me to sleep now, or I’ll lose my Jedi powers.”
• “Oh dear me. I have the coughs.”
• “Should I cuddle you or jump on you?”
• “I don’t want a Happy Meal. I want a mad meal instead.”
• “Did you buy a liquor? Are you going to share that liquor with me?”
• “Remember a bird that says ‘gobble gobble?’ That’s meat.”
• “My penis is big as a uniform… or a platform.”
• “I’m not a big fan… I’m a little fan.”
• “Now it’s in your head.”
• “You can’t not give a man strawberries.”
• To a grandmother-aged woman at the grocery store: “Excuse me, little lady”
• About baby brother: “I think his name is baby angel. Because he’s an angel. And you’re mommy angel.”
• “I think he wants to be invited to our snack”
• “I’m a brave man.” (after a blackout)
• Doubled over, grabbing his middle: “Oh my God.” Daddy: “What’s wrong, bud?” M: “Oh my God… nipple ache!”

In the morning, I woke at about 7:00 to the same sensation. I showered and told James that I thought my water might be breaking. I said, “Don’t freak out,” and told him I was going to call the midwife to see what to do.

The midwife had appointments all day at the birth center, so though she said that nine times out of ten, the sensation is something other than amniotic fluid, it would probably be best to come in and get the swab to check for sure.

So just in case we were about to have a baby, we packed the rest of our things and headed over to the birth center. James had been scheduled to close, and I called out of work at the diaper store so we all went over to see what was going on, if anything.

We got there and barely had to wait before doing the test, and since I’ve foreshadowed a bit here, obviously, my water had indeed broken. It was about 11:30 when we were told Baby X’s arrival was imminent. Twelve days earlier than anticipated. Our midwife suggested we go have some lunch and walk around for a little while in the afternoon to see if contractions started picking up on their own. She recommended coming back by 4:00 at the latest so that if they hadn’t, we could start some natural methods to get things going.

We went to lunch nearby at Red Robin, made some phone calls and sent some text messages. We went to Target to pick up some snacks and food and walk around a bit, and by about 2:00, the three of us were all pretty tired, so we decided to head back to the birth center and rest for awhile.

We put on Return of the Jedi and tried to get some rest. I was having a few mild cramps at fairly regular, though rather long, intervals at that point, but we were just trying to get through the day and figure out what would come next. My friend met us at the birth center, after graciously leaving work early (on a Friday afternoon, I’m sure it was heartbreaking for her to have to do that, ha!). We hung out for a little while, but James was fairly stressed out having to try to keep him in line but also wanting to help and support me. So after awhile, we sent M and my friend on their way, and he ended up spending the night at their place, just a few miles down the road from the birth center.

After the day’s prenatal appointments were through, we started the procedures for kicking labor into gear. Because my membranes had ruptured, there was a risk, though small (due to the midwives’ precautions and minimally invasive procedures) of infection the more time that passes before baby is born. So they brought in all these bottles and lined them up in a certain way, a breast pump and a heating pad. The midwife checked me and did a membrane sweep. I was at two centimeters.

We started with castor oil. Which sounds horrible if you are familiar with its consistency and what it will do to your insides when ingested. But you know what? The castor oil was nothing compared to the two other homeopathic things I had to take in a rotation with some other stuff. At least I only had to take the castor oil once.

So every fifteen minutes, we’d do something different. Contractions started picking up and definitely were feeling more intense and effective by 9:30 or so, but when I was checked again, I was found to be a whole three centimeters. That’s when the midwife had to “be a good midwife” and inform me again of the risk of prolonged rupture of membranes and ask if I wanted to go to the hospital to get pitocin. That’s the part that totally freaked me out. That’s the last thing I wanted.

So instead, we started filling up the birth tub. Which they suggested could relax me enough to speed things along and get the baby moving in the right direction. And the tub was indeed awesome. The midwife and trainees left us alone for a bit to connect and relax, but the water cooled relatively quickly, and I broke down in tears expressing my fear to James how I wasn’t progressing and I didn’t want to go to the hospital. He didn’t know what to say or do, so he warmed up the water for me and went to speak to the midwives.

The three of them came back into the room and managed to assure me that the tub was actually doing what it was supposed to, and so was my body. The shivers and shakes I had were partially hormonal and my emotions were definitely a good sign of progress. They all told me what a great job I was doing and how they knew we’d have a baby soon.

I had no idea how right they were.

The tub felt nice, but the contractions were getting ridiculously painful. Maybe because of all the stimulation we’d gone through, or maybe because as it turned out, there was a baby hand hindering the baby head’s progress. It was hard work. It was extremely intense and very difficult to let go and ride the waves of the pains like I had when M was born. But no one told me what to do, where to sit, how to lie or when to push. And you know what happened? That baby still came out of me.

I can’t even describe the pain, though. I actually felt the baby moving with the later contractions, heading down and down. My body pushed and I just had to get out of the way. I pooped in the tub a little bit. I had to get over that. I asked James if he wanted to take over. I said I didn’t want to do it anymore. All the things that we say when we’re that overwhelmed. And then I pushed four or five times, which lasted about fifteen minutes. The first few pushes, I was reclined on my bottom leaning my back against the side of the tub, but for the last two pushes, I turned over to my hands and knees. That totally did it. With the second to last push, I got the baby’s head all the way out, only because it hurt so much I couldn’t stop until I’d just done it. The last push brought the shoulders and the rest of the body out.

I reached through my legs and pulled baby up out of the water and onto my chest. I checked out between the wrinkly, vernix-covered legs and was surprised (and delighted) to see we had another boy.

We got out of the tub and moved to the bed, where we waited for the cord to stop pulsing so I could cut it. We snuggled skin to skin for a long time. I looked in his face and James looked into his face and we looked at each other and we were so happy. He is so small and beautiful and perfect, and as it turned out, he was really only eleven days early, since he decided to be born four minutes after midnight on the fourteenth instead of just before midnight on Friday, the thirteenth.

We didn’t know his name or weight or length for awhile, but by the time we got a little cleaned up and rested, we spread the news of our new baby Andrew James, and in the morning, he got to meet his big brother, who totally adores him.

So, welcome to our family, baby A. You are a strong and surprising little person, and I’m really looking forward to getting to know you as you grow. We didn’t expect to meet you so soon, but we’re very glad you’ve come to meet us when you did. I’m proud of my family and I’m very proud of myself and my role as your mommy.

You can’t tell from this photograph, but in real life, I totally have that look and air about me that says, “tired of being pregnant.” I am moving very slowly, I’m glad my work shifts are shorter this week, and I haven’t had a whole lot of energy to complete a lot of the household chores I wish I could. We’re pretty prepared for baby, but I want to do some cooking next week and James is planning to do some more house cleaning so that maybe our house will be guest ready for when grandma comes to spend some time helping us out after baby comes in just a couple more weeks. We still have no idea what Baby X will be named after making his/her appearance earthside.

The nesting has definitely kicked in and is kicking my butt. The baby clothes are washed and organized. Towels, diapers, blankets and everything is good to go. I’m itching to install the car seat, but my current girth and awkwardness may require some assistance on that front. I’ve culled a number of M’s toys from his toy box (right under his nose, I’m that good), trying to get the house looking neat. I managed to convert a few onesies to t-shirts for the little one, assuming shirts will be cooler for the summer months and show off the adorable cloth diapers s/he’ll be wearing. Sewing tiny stretchy hems is not easy, so the shirts aren’t pretty, but I’m pretty sure they’ll hold. And again, who’s going to be looking at a shirt hem on an adorable little infant with their adorable little cloth-covered butt showing.

I’ve scrubbed things and dusted and vacuumed. I’ve done extra dishes (we have wine glasses hanging in the kitchen that tend to get a little dusty/greasy after a time). I’ve gathered paperwork. I finished crocheting the baby blanket. I’ve spent some money on a few essentials, most significantly a $200 breast pump because no way am I using a manual pump again (even if I may not need to pump daily or super often). I still need to pick up my new diaper bag, but other than that, I think we’re about ready.

And 37 weeks is the milestone I’ve been awaiting. 37 weeks is considered full-term and safe to go to the birth center when I go into labor. I’ve been a little nervous that I may not get here because I’ve been feeling so many more of the “practice” contractions than I ever did with M. I hoped the wouldn’t turn into the real thing so I wouldn’t have to change birth plans and practitioners at this point. So now I can breathe and relax. And probably wait another five weeks before Baby X actually decides to make his/her appearance. Because I’m ready, now, you know that’s how it’s going to be.

35 Weeks

My husband commented that suddenly, I have exploded. I feel bigger. I feel more awkward, more cumbersome. The belly is itchy at times, and the stretch marks I had from before are growing red and angry looking. It is getting difficult to put on socks and tie my shoes. Fortunately, some days here have totally been sandal weather.

36 Weeks

My friend hosted a blessingway for me last weekend, which is kind of like a baby shower, but not really. We had a small handful of guests attend, and the ritual was very calming and freeing. I felt very loved and supported as we released fears, shared memories and stories and meaningful quotations. I am truly blessed by the friends I have made here, both those who sat with me in the circle on Saturday and those who were with me in spirit but unable to attend the official event.

I’m feeling more ready now. Though I am still anxious about various things in life, I’m feeling pretty good about the new family member itself. We’ve got a lot of change heading our way, and I know that James is definitely feeling a little more freaked out the closer we get. I know the baby thing is just a part of it all, but sometimes he seems more full of dread than excitement, and I’m not always sure how to respond to that. I know it will all be okay. I for one can’t wait to meet “Baby X,” and I think it will actually be quite nice not to be pregnant anymore.

In Virginia, it hasn’t really been winter at all this year. So I wonder why I’m having a hard time wrapping my brain around spring. Maybe because some of the weather we’re already getting is more like summer. Maybe it has something to do with how unprepared I feel for this pregnancy to end.

It’s getting closer. A month and a half. Six weeks. It sounds like such a short amount of time. It will be the end of a pregnancy but the beginning of a whole new life. And I remember how it was at this time with M, too. You have this end in sight, knowing that something new is definitely about to begin, but having absolutely no idea how the picture is really going to look.

I can plan and prepare for the birth. I’m working on my email to my support team as I write this. I have begun to pack my bag to take to the birth center. I have been continuing to eat well, move, breathe, relax. We have started tackling some of the other big worries of life, and we’re hoping to have some answers in place over the next few weeks so that these fears, completely unrelated to Baby X, don’t have a negative impact on these last weeks of pregnancy, the birth or postpartum period.

M has been trying very hard to stay in his own bad through the night, and so far, he’s been able to make it until 5:00am. Which is not bad. And at that point, really, I’m totally not going to take him back to his room because the early morning cuddles are just too sweet and precious to me still. But when he comes in any earlier than that, he’s pretty easy to walk back to bed on my way to the bathroom, and as long as he gets a few hugs and a little comfort, he’s back to sleep in no time. I’m sad to have to send him a room away, but it is so much easier to get back into bed after my many middle of the night bathroom visits without having to crawl over or shove aside that sleeping body.

This week’s plans include some more organizing and hauling out the infant clothes. Hopefully, there will be plenty for the warmer weather. I know it was super smart of us to have our second child in the exact opposite season that the first was born. At least for summer, it won’t be the end of the world if all we have around are adorable little diapers. Because if winter and spring are any indication… it’s going to be a hot one again here.

30 Weeks

Entering into the home stretch. And stretch it is. Skin is starting to itch at night. It’s not so easy to get comfortable. Long shifts at work seem longer.

31 Weeks

Everyone still says I look great, but I feel so heavy and tired. Baby is very strong, but fortunately, the entirely sleepless nights are still few. Though they do occur.

32 Weeks

In pictures, I still look so small. In life, the belly is completely taking over. It’s uncomfortable to have M on my lap because of how his body rubs against the baby bulge. I am excited about organizing my home. I am enjoying the brighter, warmer weather. There are many things left to do. I am trying to release fears and prepare myself for becoming a mother of two. Sometimes I feel like I know this baby very well. Other times, I am certain I have no idea what our family is in for.

33 Weeks

Having not written anything for a few weeks, it is difficult to assign the above thoughts into their exact date range. But the last few weeks have included all of those feelings. I had another prenatal appointment earlier this week where I found I’d lost some weight again. I need to do better with meat. With vegetables. And drink more water. Someone asked me if I was due in June or July, and where I was perfectly content to be pregnant with M forever, this time, the thought of this pregnancy extending that long made me dizzy. I am heavy and slow moving. I am uncomfortable in almost every position, especially when it’s time to change positions. I know that the comment about a summer due date was a comment on my size, my smallness, but it’s awkward for me to accept the compliment because of how distended I already feel.

We had a photo shoot yesterday with the very generous photographer who used to employ me. Even James and M had fun, and I’m really excited to see how the shots eventually turn out. From what we could see on the camera, it looks like there will be many beautiful images from which to choose to commemorate this pregnancy and this time in our family life.

We were posing for one shot where M and James had their arms around me and M said, “This is a trap of love for you, Mommy.” It was a moment that hopefully captures how I feel when I wake up in the morning with the arms of my loves wrapped around me. If it is indeed a trap, I can’t think of how or why I’d ever want to escape. I hope that Baby X can feel all this love, too, and that my family never actually feels trapped by love but rather, free.

After a week in Wisconsin, I think I must have done something wrong. At my appointment this week, I’d actually lost a little weight. The midwife wasn’t overly concerned for now, especially since I had submitted a diet journal (started after I got home, of course), which did show how much and what I’ve been eating every day. Baby’s growing, measuring good, has its head down already. My iron was a little low, so I’ve been recommended to eat more red meat, leafy greens, all that irony protein stuff. So even though I’m just feeding myself and my boy every night for dinner this week, I’ve been trying to add some meat to our meals.

I’m feeling heavier, a little more tired. But I’m also crossing some stuff off my to-do list in preparation for baby. The big thing now is arranging for someone to be around for M during the labor and birth. I’ve got a few options, so hopefully with the help from a few kind and generous individuals, I’ll have a plan, a backup and maybe a couple of other backup options.

M has been more lovey with me and the baby belly. He asks to give Baby X hugs in the morning, he kisses my belly, and during the Super Bowl, we were just lying on the couch together and his hand was lightly running circles around my belly. He’s also highly amused by my disappearing naval.

I’m thrilled for these individuals because it seems like things are going well for them, they look happy and healthy and beautiful, and I took note of just how much I miss hanging out with them on a regular basis.

As many of my handful of readers know, James and I are seriously considering a move back to Wisconsin to be closer to family and get our financial situation more under control. Being able to see these friends, among others, is one item that definitely goes in the “pro” column for this particular decision.

But it might not really be that simple to slip back into that place. You see, our relationship has shifted, probably having a lot to do with the current distance. But I think it also has a little bit to do with my life and experience as a parent. I noticed this very acutely as we were chatting at our table in the restaurant, and one friend was getting especially irritated, frequently glancing over at something a few tables away from ours. Finally, there came the offhand comment that people should not bring screaming children to restaurants.

Now, before I was a parent, I may have agreed with the statement. But as a parent, the first thing I observed in myself was how I hadn’t even noticed that the sound of said screaming child was even a part of the cacophonous mingle of crowded restaurant noises. The second thing, as a parent, I pointed out that the child in question is not usually screaming when you choose to bring them to a restaurant.

We all have our days. The high-pitched squeal of someone under five is not always music to my ears, especially in close quarters, as I happen to spend many of my own hours with someone of that particular demographic. And the fact that a child screaming at a restaurant bothered one of my good friends is not necessarily any huge deal to me. When I’m out with my kid, I do my very best to help him stay under the radar, so to speak. I try to teach him at home what’s appropriate so that on the rare occasions we do go out, he understands what’s expected of him. But sometimes, kids are just kids. Unless it’s totally out of hand, the occasional outburst will happen, and we parents just have to hope that no one’s whole evening is ruined because of it.

The thing is, most of my close friends I’ve had forever are not yet to the parenting phase of their journeys, if it’s even in the cards for them at all. And that’s fine, I’ll go ahead and envy them their sleep, double incomes and free time, but I’m sitting right here in the thick of it, and there is no denying that this simple fact has changed the way I experience the world. And a small part of me is actually afraid that this change could turn out to be a line that keeps me at a distance from certain people, even if I end up in closer physical proximity.