Baby O,
Hi. Man alive do I love you. You’ve been in our arms for a month and finally feel like a little person and not such a stranger in our home. Our family is starting to take shape quite nicely, I think – you fit wonderfully.
You’re pretty much a night and day difference from your sister – but we love it. You demand more attention than she did, but as I was explaining to my mom this morning – when we had your sister I was super excited to be a parent but when we had you – I was ready to be a parent. So your need for a little more of me is quite all right. I’ve got it. I now know how fast this goes and will give you all the time you need, little man.
We took you to the doctor this morning to check a few things, like your poor little ingrown toes -ouch. You weighed in at 11lbs 2oz! Over a 2 pound growth in one month!!! I called the lactation consultants at the hospital to tell them the good news and do a bit of healthy gloating.
I love bragging about you, by the way, because what Mom doesn’t? Lets be honest here, shall we? Thats a promise I make to you, to always be honest. You are awesome. So far a good and easy baby – sure there are nights when I want more sleep or an hour here or there where I’d like some peace and quiet – but Oliver, you’re amazing. You’re one month old and already amazing.
Right now it feels like the whole world is open for you – everything is at your finger tips, the possibilities are endless, and so unknown, for your life. I love living in such hope. I think you’re going to do great things – even if all that is is working with your hands as a craftsman – you don’t have to be the president for me. I love you already and I know what your poop smells like.
I haven’t talked about your middle name yet for a lot of reasons. You are named after my step dad, Wayne. Pappy. He died of cancer when we were pregnant with your big sister – if she was a boy she was going to be named after him, also. That was a promise we made to my dad before he died, that our first born son would bear his name. He cried and asked us more than once if we were serious.
Oliver, I have a lot of unresolved feelings about my dad’s death. I’ve stuffed most of it away, unwilling to deal with the bitter sadness that was our loss through his death. I hurt so badly, still, maybe even more than when it actually happened. It’s so hard. Wayne was very special to me. He showed me a kind of loving compassion that I had never known before, and I don’t say that to take away from the things my parents had shown me or given me until that point. I would have been a fulfilled woman had I not known Wayne as my dad – but I am a richer and more whole woman because I did.
I wasn’t always close to my real dad – we had a hard go of it for a long time. Mostly due to my stubbornness and anger at our family situation. Things have gotten much better between us and I’m now very close to him. This is all very hard, too. I don’t know if I can explain it, but any way I slice it I have some loyalty issues – whether it’s feeling unloyal to my real dad for being so close to my step dad or feeling unloyal to the relationship I did have with my step dad now that I have a better relationship with my real dad.
You can see why I’m so messed up about all this.
Either way – Oliver, you are a dream come true in so many ways. I know for certain that Wayne, my pappy, my daddy – is looking down on you from heaven and just giggling in pure and honest delight. Your gas would make him proud and the small dimple on your cheek would make him cry every time he saw it while you smiled in your sleep.
I am so very sad that you’ll never meet him or know his hugs, his smell, the size of his hands against your own – it breaks my heart that he’s not here to meet you.
However, Grandpa Bosa (my real dad) is and he’s a mess with happiness over you. He loves baby’s. LOVES baby’s. And I’ll go on record saying that a grandson is a tad more special than a granddaughter – because he’s dreamt of taking you fishing, hunting, showing you how to use a saw and work a lawn mower – he’s dreamt of all these things for years. Taking his grandsons on trips and showing them the way of the world. He shares the same zest for his granddaughters, but it is different. A boy to a man is something very special.
And your Grandma Schaap (daddy’s dad) is the same mess of happiness. I don’t think he ever looks away from you when he’s holding you. His eyes get this glazed glittery look, all mushy and melting with affection and he just droops, saturated in your cuddle. I think we could leave him like that forever and he’d never protest.
Any way – all the men in your life are very special, even the men who are in your life through memory. I have a feeling you’ll be a firecracker for life, and Tadpole – I can’t wait!
Love,
Mama.