Excerpts from the 1st Letter to my Son
As I sit here reading The Blue Jay’s Dance by Louise Erdrich, I am reminded by a hollow thumping in my chest that my birth year—our birth year—my year at home is coming to a close. The fact that I am scratching out my ideas on the back of a “patient drug education” sheet is proof enough that my year did not end up as expected. But, what ever does? Our lives our rarely what we dream.
Still, despite the emotional hurdles, the year was a good year; a perfect year. A year to be thankful for.
I am sure in the next two months– the months before I must rise and dress and blow dry my hair and hurry you off to day care– I will be spending countless moments (hours?) reflecting on our year. On all the wonder and beauty of it.
We have, in this year, learned each other’s limits– giving each other space to grow– to weave our lives together. Yet, still be apart. So much like marriage. The year was as I had hoped. I found the space to write. To begin again. Thank you.
I would like to post some excerpts from the first letter that I ever wrote to you. I hope you don’t mind. Your father tells me that I have a disastrous need to share. That I leave nothing sacred. That I am something well beyond the ordinary open book. Sometimes it bothers him. Sometimes it gives him a reason to love me. I hope you are less bothered by and more in love with my “open book” policy.
Sunday, May 13th, 2007
10:26pm
Dearest Silas,
Today is Mother’s Day and I’m finally writing you your 1st letter. It’s getting late for me, so I’ll have to be in bed soon, but I wanted to start writing you. Your father is maniacally cleaning and improving the house– even now at 10:30! I think he wants all of his projects finished by the time you arrive.
So, now you are 18 weeks old. (I am 20 weeks pregnant & I have 20 weeks to go!) All of your organs and body parts are formed. You’re starting to grow hair and gain some weight. We think that you can hear us now & we’ve been playing you Beethoven and Cuban lullabies. We’ve also played you some Bach on the Cello by Yo Yo Ma. We’ve been reading you Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What do you see? even though that’s a silly book.
I keep your ultra-sound pictures in a little album by my bed and I look at them every night. You are so handsome! I might be wrong, but I think you have your father’s nose. (He just walked in the room and said to say “hi”!) You have a nicely shaped head. We were able to see your spine and brain and your little heart beating at incredible speeds. You moved around so much that the sonographer said that you are a feisty one! Your father said that’s because you are just like me. Feisty, huh?
I think I first felt you move about a month ago while we were listening to really loud live jazz in a little dive in Savannah. Of course, the flutter may just have been my wishful thinking. Now, periodically, I feel odd little jabs and crazy breakdancing moves. But, they are inconsistent. However, two nights ago, while your father and I were watching a long movie, I was certain I felt you practicing your soccer kicks or ballet swings or your anti-gravity spacewalking moves! I was very excited! I can’t wait to feel you more often.
Well, I better get to sleep. I have to wake up early and go to school. (ugh!) I’d say “sleep tight” but according to “the books” you do most of your carousing while I sleep. A little wild child!
I love you, Silas! Can’t wait to hug you & kiss you & meet you face-to-face.
We will have so much fun.
Love,
your mom
