Letter to my newborn son
October 6, 2012
Dear baby Wald,
When your brother was born, I wrote him a love letter just days after he arrived.
There is nothing quite like the emotion a mother feels in those days and weeks after a child arrives.
When I was pregnant with you, I was so afraid I wouldn’t be able to love you as much as I love your brother.
I couldn’t believe it possible that I could love another child as much as I love him.
Your brother was so afraid I would love you even more.
Neither of us had anything to worry about.
Here is what my children have taught me about love:
There are as many different types of love in the world as there are people.
I’ve said this before, but I didn’t really believe it until I became a mother.
To compare my love for you and my love for your brother is nonsense.
I don’t love one of you more than the other. I love you equally, infinitely, without limits or reason.
I explained to your brother that his name is written on my heart, and that spot belongs only to him. I explained that no matter what happens, his name will always be there.
Your name, too, is written on my heart. It is an immovable tattoo. That spot is reserved just for you, forever.
I knew you, you know, before you were born. I knew your name. I knew you were a boy before we saw your grainy parts on the ultrasound.
I knew you’d look like your daddy, and you do. But you also look like me. Somehow, you are mix. All our best parts, in one perfect little package.
And then you also look like no one else. You are just you. A one-of-a-kind bundle of wonderful.
You were so busy in my tummy. You never stopped moving. Sometimes, you exhausted me, and you weren’t even here yet.
And I fell in love. I fell in love with your energy, your enthusiasm, your every tremble.And now here you are. A part of our family. A part of the world.
Now that you are here, you are mellow and peaceful and centered. When you get uncomfortable, you are noisy and expressive. We never have to guess how you’re feeling. You are a straight-up communicator, wise and direct.
I know that you have so much to teach me about life, and I can’t wait to learn.
In your brother’s newborn letter, I explained to him my expectations, and they are the same for you:
I know I should just hope that you are happy, and nothing more. I shouldn’t have expectations beyond that, but I do.
I expect you to be respectful.
I expect you to be kind.
I expect you to disagree with me from time to time.
I expect you to speak up, stand up, be you no matter what.
I expect you to be separate from me. I expect you to find your own way.
I expect myself to let you do all these things.
I hope we don’t fail one another, but I expect we will from time to time.
Before it was even confirmed you were a boy, your brother told his preschool class that he loved his mom because she was making him a baby brother.
You were so eagerly anticipated. So wanted. So utterly loved by all of us.
Beautiful baby boy, we have all been impatiently awaiting your arrival, and we are so glad you are here.