Dear Baby Boy

Letters from a reluctant mother

Dear baby boy,

I confess, I didn’t always want you. There were times in the those first few weeks after the plus signs first appeared that I thought we’d made a mistake. I mourned the loss of Steven and I, as Steven and I, and also, to a somewhat lesser but still significant degree, cold-brew coffee and Odell IPAs and, another confession, those American Spirits I used to sneak behind our house. My first piece of advice: if you ever start smoking, which you shouldn’t, never, ever smoke a cigarette you don’t love.

I remember that moment we first met on the screen via tiny sound waves that drew out your head, arms, and tail-butt. You looked more like a baby human than I thought you would. I heard your heart beating thumping racing much faster and very separate from my own. I think that was when what we were losing was eclipsed by what we were being given.

I remember when you were a girl, and we had your name picked out, and dreamt daughter dreams and even let “she” slip a few times. Did you laugh as you listened to us, silly outsiders going with our guts? I hope you thought that was funny — there will be a lot more to laugh at once you’re out here.

Then there was the first time I forgot myself. I had crashed on my bike, and you were all that mattered as I anxiously inspected my belly, feeling, praying for movement. I didn’t even discover my own injuries until after we were home, when the blood leaked through the knees of my jeans.

And now, faster than I could have ever thought, you are upon us, a matter of weeks or days. Maybe it’s your birthday we’re celebrating tonight. This could be the last Saturday I live without knowing what your skin feels like on mine, or what your voice sounds like in the nighttime when you’re hungry or what your dad looks like when he’s looking at you. I look forward to these things like I did your father’s face on our wedding day. But I’m not ready to be alone in this body, not yet. Please hang in there, just a little longer now.

When I decided to write a letter to you, just a few hours before Words Night, I hesitated. I didn’t want people to think I’m one of those women obsessed with their kid, their pregnancy, their family. I wanted everyone to know I’m thinking about bigger things like gun laws and the treatment of the mentally ill. And I am thinking about those things, but in a different way — I am thinking about you and them, and what kind of world we are bringing you into, and with you in me they seem to matter more than ever. Humanity is too big for this small woman to love but you, my son, are just the right size.

I’ll see you soon,

Your mom

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