• F

    dear bee // 16.

    11.02.2012 / FAMILY, personal

    bee

    Dear Bee,

    I know I usually write about your milestones each week, but today is different. Today, I celebrated my own milestone:

    I fell in love with you.

    I suppose that’s not the whole truth. Because the whole truth is that I loved you from the moment I knew about you; the moment your father and I saw that tiny plus sign on the pregnancy test and the moment you came into this world out of my hind locale. I really, really did. But what I didn’t anticipate was how long it would take for me to fall in love with the idea of you. The idea of us. The idea of me becoming your mother and, at the same time, singlehandedly becoming incapable of peeing by myself, uninterrupted, for the next six years.

    It wasn’t you, Bee. Sure, you would repeatedly throw the most obnoxious crying raves every night and insist that your father and I not only attend, but dance, dance, dance until our limbs became marmalade and we’d pass out onto the floor, much like those who have attended raves for decades before us. The only difference? They were gifted glow sticks.

    Even then, I loved you. But part of me was selfish. Part of me missed my former days of gallivanting through town in perfectly inappropriate footwear without fearing the weight of a car seat would topple me to the right. Or the ability to run to the grocery store and languidly peruse the olive aisle without worrying that I’ll be home in time for your next feeding. Or the idea that maybe, perhaps one day soon, I could wear my favorite silk dress that is so terribly non-nursing-friendly and I’d twirl off into the sunset without a care in the world.

    But this is better than all that, Bee. It’s maddening and it’s anxiety-inducing and I’m in a constant state of overthinking and overfeeling and it is a completely exhausting way to live. But it is such a beautiful time for me. For us. Because you’re teaching me not only how to become a better mother, but how to become a better me. The kind of me that spends every morning in a quiet house, just the two of us, watching and listening and waiting patiently for you to teach me something wonderful. The kind of me that turns off my phone and focuses on nothing more than the wisps on your forehead or the lines on your hands. The kind of me that slows down, just for a bit, to marvel at the beauty of another human being.

    I like this me. And this me likes you. So very, very much.

    And yes, there will be days when I’ll hope to put on that favorite silk dress and twirl off into the sunset without a care in the world. But I no longer want to twirl alone, Bee. I want to be twirling with you.

    XO,
    Mama

    • Kitty

      What a beautiful, honest letter. I love this idea of writing letters to your daughter, I wish I had the patience to do the same. Your daughter will one day be so grateful for these. I can completely relate to this. Before becoming pregnant, I was never a “baby” person. Even after she was born, I was still in shock that she was there and she was mine. I still can’t believe it. But as she grows and becomes more of a little person, I fall in love with her more and more. It’s a love I never dreamed of and never knew existed. It’s truly amazing. I’m now a “baby” person. :)

    • @Kitty – I can COMPLETELY relate! Man I hated babies, and everyone said I would love my own. (They were right!) :)

    • LibraryLady

      So glad I found this letter, Erin. I love how you are able to appreciate the small moments and share them in a way we can all relate to, whether we are living our “mommy days” in the present, or in the distant past, or somewhere in between. Your letters always bring back good memories and the realization that these moments pass so quickly to be replaced by new challenges in life.

    • Tears in my eyes! So much love to you and Bee, from me and V.

    • Your use of the world twirl makes me think of You’ve Got Mail and your entire post gives me hope that the motherhood bug will in fact infect me too someday. Wish you all the best my dear. xoxo

    • Erin

      This is probably my favorite letter to Bee so far but I feel like i say that every week. You are such an amazing Mama and Bee is so very lucky to have you.

      • Ah, thank you, Erin. :) Stella is so lucky, too!!!

    • I really wish I could go back in time and read this post to my new-to-momming self. Your words/ideas/thoughts/emotions ring true, friend!

      these letters are my absolute favorite because they help me appreciate where I am now in mothering and where I was back then. I’m glad you’re understanding certain things earlier on! God knows I wasted a lot of time dwelling on things that didn’t really matter.

      • @Tracy – Oh gosh, thank you so much! And I write these letters so I can remind myself that same thing! A lot of things don’t really matter. ;)

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