I am expecting another baby in a few months. Generally, I am in complete denial about what this is going to mean to my life and the life of my family, but I did sign up for weekly emails from babycenter.com this time around. They send cute little reminders of how pregnant I am and how many weeks I have to go before my due date, what size fruit the baby is today, etc. And then, this week, I got a “helpful tip” that now is the perfect time to write my unborn baby a letter.
I don’t mind writing stuff, obviously, so why does this idea hang over my head? I remember thinking about it before my son was born. I remember not wanting to write a letter to him because I just couldn’t imagine what he was like. I didn’t know very many (any?) babies, and all I knew about him was the feeling of his little hands and feet against the inside of my stomach. I expected I’d love him and bond with him, but I don’t know, what else did I imagine the future to be? I was clueless. So what was I going to write about? My life at the moment? It was a lot of watching cable TV with my husband, a fan pointed on me because it was hot outside. It was not real exciting.
Looking back on it, I appreciate how clueless I was. I didn’t understand how hard it was going to be to establish breastfeeding or what kinds of toys and books a baby needs, I didn’t have any expectations about living without sleep, or how we would deal with sleeping arrangements. I had some general ideas about options, but I had to approach the subject of “my baby” with a plain, old open mind and pretty low expectations. It worked out really well for me. I feel like a lot of that allowed me to develop a relationship with my son, and with my new lifestyle, based on what was happening in front of me, instead of constantly comparing our stuff with someone else’s. I liked it.
I don’t really want to write the “new baby” a letter. Again, what am I going to write? Again, all I know is the feeling of little hands and feel against the inside of my tummy. Again, my expectations of life with two kids is nonexistent. I try to think about it sometimes, but my mind goes blank. I am just trusting, kind of like I did last time, that I will figure out what needs to be figured out; and, if last time is any indication, I will do an ok job taking a little more time and with a little less grace than is probably advised.
What I really want to write, if I have to write a letter, is a note to the son I already have. I want to write down what life is like right now, when he is the only child here. I can’t predict all the things that will be different a year from now, but at least I can write about what life is like today. And maybe that is ok. It’s a little more interesting than just watching TV; especially since we don’t have time to really do that anymore.