Dear Gabrielle,
As is usually the case when I write, you are asleep in your crib. You murmur or cry every now and then, but for the most part, you are sound asleep. I peek in on you every now and then, sometimes to pat you and comfort you, and sometimes just to stare at your amazing little frame in that big crib. You seem so small in there, and yet, I already know that you will soon fill it up. Even though I know it will happen, my mind just hasn't completely wrapped itself around that fact yet.
I invited your Daddy to the add to these letters today, and he said he'd want something more private. I completely understand that; I actually had this set up on a different server for a while so I could set things to private. But then I couldn't get to it all the time, and I must say that convenience won out. Your Daddy is a very private person, so don't be offended that he hasn't put anything here.
There are a lot of things that I want to tell you that should probably be private. Things that are sensitive or so touching that they maybe shouldn't be shared with the world. Even though I don't mention my name, your Daddy's name, where we are, or anything like that, I'm sure someone could figure out everything about us if they wanted to. For some reason, I'm not concerned. I like to think that, somewhere, some other mother can benefit from my strange little outpouring of love, concern, and ramblings that comprise this little blog.
I am sure that some things will be light, and some dark, but most in the middle. I hope that you don't find this collection of letters and thoughts too private to be out there for the world to see.
In any event, I'm supposed to be doing homework, so I will get back to that.
I love you so much, Little One.
Love always,
Mami
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Time flies
Dear Gabrielle,
I've had a letter to you floating around in my head for quite some time, and I'm sure that what I write here won't be nearly as eloquent as those gray matter compositions. But I want to give it a shot before it's too late.
You see, my dear, you are growing by leaps and bounds every single day. I can still remember holding your foot up to my pinky and marveling at how it only spanned two knuckles. I remember supporting your entire body with the palm of my hand. I remember nursing you in the football hold using nothing by my elbow to support the weight of your body. You are now five months old. Your foot is getting to be as long as my entire ring finger. I require two arms to hold you, and I have to find support to nurse you.
There are so many things that I'll never see again. I remember when you discovered your hands. The first time you smiled. When you discovered your laugh. When I no longer had to hold your head. You've done all this so fast, and I am so proud of you for it.
Your Daddy looks forward to the days when you can walk and talk. I must confess to you, Little One, that I am apprehensive for those days. You see, the day you learn to walk, you will never stop walking. I will never again see you squirm forward on the bed, tugging at the sheets or carpet to move forward (ingenious, by the way). I will never again see you crawl awkwardly. You will always walk. And when you talk, you will never again coo sweetly at me or make an excited, breathy "whoo!" noise when you see something you like. And I will miss that.
Little One, I am excited at the girl you will become, but I will very much miss the baby that you currently are. You see, although you will always be my little girl, you will only be a baby for a few more months, and after that, you will cease being a baby forever. I don't want to forget how precious you are now. How your smile brightens my day, even when I'm sad. How you giggle at everything because, to you, it really is new and exciting. That you need me for everything. I must carry you around and I must feed you and bathe you. I never would have guessed that I would want someone to depend on me to that degree, but something about you... I will miss all of it when it's over.
I knew the moment I saw you on the ultrasound monitor that I loved you. That you were perfect and sassy and absolutely amazing. The thought of my first sight of you can still bring tears to my eyes. My world changed when I saw you that day, and my world continues to change because of you. And while I can't wait until I can hold your hand and walk through life with you - I will miss cradling you in my arms as I nurse you, stroking your fuzzy brown head and looking into those gray eyes of yours as you gulp and murmur and thrash your feet as you eat.
I will miss your uninhibited burps and farts. Your spontaneous yelps and coos. Your sheer delight at being startled. The grunty faces you get as you do your business. Your fascination with our ceiling fan (you know, George). And the look of total ad unconditional recognition and love that you give me when our eyes meet.
You smile everytime you see me, and I despair at the thought that there will come a day that you won't do that. You cling to me when you're sad or scared or hungry or tired, and I cry inside when I realize that you won't always do that. I know that is a part of you growing up, Gabrielle. Just don't grow up too soon.
I love you the way you are today. That will always be true; when you're six months, two years, or 20 years. I will always love you the way you are.
I hope you are sleeping well, Chick Pea. I'm off to bed to join you.
Love always,
Mami
I've had a letter to you floating around in my head for quite some time, and I'm sure that what I write here won't be nearly as eloquent as those gray matter compositions. But I want to give it a shot before it's too late.
You see, my dear, you are growing by leaps and bounds every single day. I can still remember holding your foot up to my pinky and marveling at how it only spanned two knuckles. I remember supporting your entire body with the palm of my hand. I remember nursing you in the football hold using nothing by my elbow to support the weight of your body. You are now five months old. Your foot is getting to be as long as my entire ring finger. I require two arms to hold you, and I have to find support to nurse you.
There are so many things that I'll never see again. I remember when you discovered your hands. The first time you smiled. When you discovered your laugh. When I no longer had to hold your head. You've done all this so fast, and I am so proud of you for it.
Your Daddy looks forward to the days when you can walk and talk. I must confess to you, Little One, that I am apprehensive for those days. You see, the day you learn to walk, you will never stop walking. I will never again see you squirm forward on the bed, tugging at the sheets or carpet to move forward (ingenious, by the way). I will never again see you crawl awkwardly. You will always walk. And when you talk, you will never again coo sweetly at me or make an excited, breathy "whoo!" noise when you see something you like. And I will miss that.
Little One, I am excited at the girl you will become, but I will very much miss the baby that you currently are. You see, although you will always be my little girl, you will only be a baby for a few more months, and after that, you will cease being a baby forever. I don't want to forget how precious you are now. How your smile brightens my day, even when I'm sad. How you giggle at everything because, to you, it really is new and exciting. That you need me for everything. I must carry you around and I must feed you and bathe you. I never would have guessed that I would want someone to depend on me to that degree, but something about you... I will miss all of it when it's over.
I knew the moment I saw you on the ultrasound monitor that I loved you. That you were perfect and sassy and absolutely amazing. The thought of my first sight of you can still bring tears to my eyes. My world changed when I saw you that day, and my world continues to change because of you. And while I can't wait until I can hold your hand and walk through life with you - I will miss cradling you in my arms as I nurse you, stroking your fuzzy brown head and looking into those gray eyes of yours as you gulp and murmur and thrash your feet as you eat.
I will miss your uninhibited burps and farts. Your spontaneous yelps and coos. Your sheer delight at being startled. The grunty faces you get as you do your business. Your fascination with our ceiling fan (you know, George). And the look of total ad unconditional recognition and love that you give me when our eyes meet.
You smile everytime you see me, and I despair at the thought that there will come a day that you won't do that. You cling to me when you're sad or scared or hungry or tired, and I cry inside when I realize that you won't always do that. I know that is a part of you growing up, Gabrielle. Just don't grow up too soon.
I love you the way you are today. That will always be true; when you're six months, two years, or 20 years. I will always love you the way you are.
I hope you are sleeping well, Chick Pea. I'm off to bed to join you.
Love always,
Mami
Monday, September 17, 2007
Separation Anxiety
Dear Gabrielle,
When I made the decision to come back to school, everyone told me that it would get easier to be away from you. They are wrong. Every day, I find my mind wandering to you, and I cannot wait to get home and look at your sweet little face and hug you and just tell you how much I adore you.
You're teething now, and your poor little gums are bright red. I rubbed them with a damp washcloth today because Dr. Keller suggested that this might help. Something about the bacteria in the mouth aggravating the gums and causing you discomfort. I'm not sure if it worked, but you are asleep right now, so perhaps it did.
But back on track. I walked out of class today knowing that I should stay and read, but the only thing I could think about was you. And so I came home. It worked out - I'm finally starting to figure out how to read at home with you around. I love you, Little One, but your adorable antics are not conducive to studying.
Speaking of which, you went to school with me last week, and it was a total disaster academically. You kept cooing at my classmates and smiling at everyone. And you talked to yourself randomly. Very, very cute, but not so good for an orderly class. I think you're going to be the class clown when you get older. Still, everyone adores you, and that's really all that matters.
I'm sorry that I don't write as often. I lay in bed a lot, with thoughts running through my mind, but I don't get up to write because I don't want to wake you up. Just know that I love you with all my heart and every day you're here brings me so much joy.
I hear you fussing. I'm going to go check on you know.
Love you always,
Mami
When I made the decision to come back to school, everyone told me that it would get easier to be away from you. They are wrong. Every day, I find my mind wandering to you, and I cannot wait to get home and look at your sweet little face and hug you and just tell you how much I adore you.
You're teething now, and your poor little gums are bright red. I rubbed them with a damp washcloth today because Dr. Keller suggested that this might help. Something about the bacteria in the mouth aggravating the gums and causing you discomfort. I'm not sure if it worked, but you are asleep right now, so perhaps it did.
But back on track. I walked out of class today knowing that I should stay and read, but the only thing I could think about was you. And so I came home. It worked out - I'm finally starting to figure out how to read at home with you around. I love you, Little One, but your adorable antics are not conducive to studying.
Speaking of which, you went to school with me last week, and it was a total disaster academically. You kept cooing at my classmates and smiling at everyone. And you talked to yourself randomly. Very, very cute, but not so good for an orderly class. I think you're going to be the class clown when you get older. Still, everyone adores you, and that's really all that matters.
I'm sorry that I don't write as often. I lay in bed a lot, with thoughts running through my mind, but I don't get up to write because I don't want to wake you up. Just know that I love you with all my heart and every day you're here brings me so much joy.
I hear you fussing. I'm going to go check on you know.
Love you always,
Mami
Monday, September 3, 2007
Moo Moo Goes the Cow
Dear Gabrielle,
As I write this, you are comfortably asleep in your crib and your Daddy is lying in bed, ready to respond to any cry. We just got home from Kansas - you did so well on the trip, but Mami's stress combined with your reduced nursing (I can't blame you - so many new things all at once) have done a number on Mami's milk supply.
I nearly cried today as I looked at the 3/4 ounces I produced after 20 minutes. I can't bear the thought of you having to drink formula. When I step back and think about that, I have to ask myself why. After all, I was a formula baby, and I turned out just fine.
I think it's several things, Sweetness. First is that I feel that I have failed you. In choosing to go to school during the day, I force you to spend a part of your day away from me. And during that time, you rely on me to make you a few decent meals. I haven't been able to since Friday. You ask so little of me, Sweetheart, and it hurts to think that I can't do the one big thing you need me to do in exchange for your acceptance of our time apart.
The second took a little more time to uncover. I realized as I was researching how to increase my milk supply that I am so very scared of being supplanted by a bottle. Despite my initial hesitations and complaints about breastfeeding, it is something I cherish. Something that only you and I can share. Something that I can give to you that no one else can. I love how you grab at my shirt and how you get overly excited at first and snort as you latch. I love how you get glazy-eyed when you eat because you're hungry and chatty when you just need a snack. I love how you fall asleep at my breast. I love how sweet you smell as I hold you close, and I love rubbing your hair. The thought of losing that is very disconcerting. Terrifying, actually.
I've read article after article about how my body is adapted to you, and I'm glad for that. But I still need to make more; reserve more. I'm scared that I made the wrong choice to go back to school. That you need me, and that I'm somehow hurting you. Perhaps some other time, after things are unpacked, I will tell you why things are as they are.
Until then, don't worry too much if Mami frets over her breast pump or clings to you just a little tighter as you're eating. I'm just trying to make sure that I get to keep this one last way for us to stay close that no one else can infringe on.
I love you, Little One. I'm coming to bed soon.
Love always,
Mami
As I write this, you are comfortably asleep in your crib and your Daddy is lying in bed, ready to respond to any cry. We just got home from Kansas - you did so well on the trip, but Mami's stress combined with your reduced nursing (I can't blame you - so many new things all at once) have done a number on Mami's milk supply.
I nearly cried today as I looked at the 3/4 ounces I produced after 20 minutes. I can't bear the thought of you having to drink formula. When I step back and think about that, I have to ask myself why. After all, I was a formula baby, and I turned out just fine.
I think it's several things, Sweetness. First is that I feel that I have failed you. In choosing to go to school during the day, I force you to spend a part of your day away from me. And during that time, you rely on me to make you a few decent meals. I haven't been able to since Friday. You ask so little of me, Sweetheart, and it hurts to think that I can't do the one big thing you need me to do in exchange for your acceptance of our time apart.
The second took a little more time to uncover. I realized as I was researching how to increase my milk supply that I am so very scared of being supplanted by a bottle. Despite my initial hesitations and complaints about breastfeeding, it is something I cherish. Something that only you and I can share. Something that I can give to you that no one else can. I love how you grab at my shirt and how you get overly excited at first and snort as you latch. I love how you get glazy-eyed when you eat because you're hungry and chatty when you just need a snack. I love how you fall asleep at my breast. I love how sweet you smell as I hold you close, and I love rubbing your hair. The thought of losing that is very disconcerting. Terrifying, actually.
I've read article after article about how my body is adapted to you, and I'm glad for that. But I still need to make more; reserve more. I'm scared that I made the wrong choice to go back to school. That you need me, and that I'm somehow hurting you. Perhaps some other time, after things are unpacked, I will tell you why things are as they are.
Until then, don't worry too much if Mami frets over her breast pump or clings to you just a little tighter as you're eating. I'm just trying to make sure that I get to keep this one last way for us to stay close that no one else can infringe on.
I love you, Little One. I'm coming to bed soon.
Love always,
Mami
Saturday, August 25, 2007
An Introduction of Sorts
Dear Gabrielle,
I created this website as a way to collect all of the little letters I have written, am writing, and will write to you over the years. I should tell you that I originally started this in a journal. A paper journal, and a beautiful one at that. But I find that I'm in front of my computer far more often than i put pen to paper, and I don't want my messages to you to get lost to my own laziness.
And so here we are, on Blogger. I justify this blog by saying you live in a digital age and will likely use the computer for everything anyway. Still, it lacks some of the personal touches that I would like to see. Just know that, because I typed instead of hand-wrote my letter, it doesn't mean any less.
There is so much I want to say that I haven't been able to put into words, and so much I've said that I need to put up here. In the end, all you really need to know is that I love you. With all my heart. No matter what. You're my angel, my world, and I would do anything for you.
I have a lot of things to do right now - the Navy, law school, taking care of your daddy and our home - and these things keep me from telling you how much I care. I know that, right now, you only know that I am always here for you, but as you get older, and start to question this (and you will), I want you to know that I have loved you since before I knew you were Gabrielle. Before you had a name or a gender, or even fully formed legs. I've loved you since the day I found out you were growing inside of me, and no matter what, that will always be true.
And for now, I have to end this so I can take care of all the other things in my life that make me your very unique mommy.
I love you, Little One. Sleep well.
Love always,
Mami
I created this website as a way to collect all of the little letters I have written, am writing, and will write to you over the years. I should tell you that I originally started this in a journal. A paper journal, and a beautiful one at that. But I find that I'm in front of my computer far more often than i put pen to paper, and I don't want my messages to you to get lost to my own laziness.
And so here we are, on Blogger. I justify this blog by saying you live in a digital age and will likely use the computer for everything anyway. Still, it lacks some of the personal touches that I would like to see. Just know that, because I typed instead of hand-wrote my letter, it doesn't mean any less.
There is so much I want to say that I haven't been able to put into words, and so much I've said that I need to put up here. In the end, all you really need to know is that I love you. With all my heart. No matter what. You're my angel, my world, and I would do anything for you.
I have a lot of things to do right now - the Navy, law school, taking care of your daddy and our home - and these things keep me from telling you how much I care. I know that, right now, you only know that I am always here for you, but as you get older, and start to question this (and you will), I want you to know that I have loved you since before I knew you were Gabrielle. Before you had a name or a gender, or even fully formed legs. I've loved you since the day I found out you were growing inside of me, and no matter what, that will always be true.
And for now, I have to end this so I can take care of all the other things in my life that make me your very unique mommy.
I love you, Little One. Sleep well.
Love always,
Mami
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