Dear Alex,

I read a horrible story the other day about a minister who suggested that parents physically discipline their children for acting homosexual.  He has since claimed that he was joking, but I am not so sure.

I have tried to tell you, in the broadest of terms, that you are free to be whoever you want to be, but you know what?  You're a baby, and you may not have developed a sense of subtlety yet, so let me make this abundantly clear.

It's OK if you're gay.  You're probably not.  Most people aren't, but a significant minority are.  And if that minority includes you, it is OK.

But here's the thing.  It isn't just that it's OK.  It's that your father and I just really don't care all that much one way or the other.  Your sexuality is something you are born with, so it's only as interesting to us as your eye color or what hand you write with.  Sure, we are mildly curious to see which traits you will exhibit, but we aren't going to be spending any time agonizing over the ones that don't turn out the way we expected. 

The qualities you are born with are much less important to us than what you do with them.  We are much less concerned with your genetic traits than with the choices you make in life.  That's what excites us.  We care about your joys, your passions, the decisions that you make about how to treat people.  That stuff is fascinating!  Your sexual preference - eh, that's pretty boring by comparison.

So, if you do wake up one day and realize that your heart doesn't point in the same direction as a lot of guys, I hope you won't waste a moment wondering how your parents will take the news.  We will be happy that you choose to share with us, but honestly, we don't really think it is a big deal.

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Dear Alex,

You are three months old today.  I honestly can't believe we've had you for 3 whole months.  In some ways, it feels like you just showed up, but in other ways, it feels like we have known you forever.

I'm still getting used to the idea that I am a mother.  It is still odd to me that words like "mother" and "son" apply to our situation.  I had to call your daycare, and when I identified myself as "Alex's Mom," it sounded so funny, like when I started using your Daddy's last name.  It is exciting.

You are growing and changing like crazy.  You can roll onto your stomach now, so you pretty much nap in whatever position you want.  You smile all the time, and you are just starting to giggle at things that you think are REALLY funny. 

Your love of Biggie has been verified.  At least 8 or 9 times now, "Juicy"consistently has stopped your crying and put you to sleep.

You have all kinds of cool toys at home - a walker, a bouncy chair, a huge alphabet puzzle mat, and a ton of little toys.  You are still too small for most of them, but we have had fun on the puzzle mat.  We always dance with you when you are on your changing table, so you get really excited when we put you up there.

I had to box up the first clothes that you've grown out of.  Never again will you wear your stripey "Handsome" outfit (the one you wore home from the hospital) or your polar bear onesie.  I would be a little sad if I weren't so distracted by all the cute new clothes that you are now finally big enough for ("Rock star," "I'm a love machine," and "Honeys play me close like butter play toast.")

You are just amazing.  Every time you smile, it delights me.  You are totally in love with your Daddy.  You light up when you see him.  If you are eating and he comes in the room, I sometimes have to make him leave because you get distracted from your bottle.  You prefer Daddy to food.  It's adorable.

Happy three month birthday!  We love you!

Love,

Mom

3 months out of the oven

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Dear Alex,

happy two month birthday! I can't believe you are already so big. You're so different from the tiny little man we brought home from the hospital who couldn't smile or laugh or follow things with his eyes or flip over or hold his head up, even for a second, or grab things on his own.

You are changing every day. Yesterday, I read you the book Gus the Friendly Ghost, and you really seemed to be getting into it. Before, when I read to you, you didn't really seem to notice, but this time, you looked at the pictures and responded to my voice.

You are changing our lives so much. One unexpected consequence of your arrival in our lives is the constant string of old school gangsta rap songs cycling through my head. You respond really well to that sort of music, so we play it for you often to calm you down. Hey, whatever works... So, today, I am serenading myself with Warren G and Nate Dogg's "Regulators." Yesterday, it was "Juicy" by Biggie. This is a fairly new experience for me, but it's kinda fun. I Just have to make sure I don't start singing aloud at work because the lyrics to those songs are definitely NSFW. In a few months, when you start repeating things, we're going to have to be much more careful about what you listen to, but for now, it seems relatively harmless.

You had your two month checkup today, and the doctor said you were doing great. You had to have four vaccinations, three of which were shots. It was really hard for your Daddy and me to listen to you crying in pain. It was the first time I'd ever heard you cry from pain, and I did not enjoy it. I wanted to be able to make it stop hurting, but all I could do was hold you and snuggle you and tell you everything was ok. I expect this is just the first of many times in your life that I will want to step in and make everything ok for you, but find myself unable to do anything to alleviate the pain. Just know that, no matter what, I'll always be there to tell you that I love you, to hold you and snuggle you and tell you that everything is ok.

Your Daddy says to tell you we love you.

Love,
Mom

2 months, 3 days out of the oven

Dear Alex,

this morning, the only thing I forgot to do before I left the house was brush my hair!  I think I am making real progress on this Mommy business.  I even got about 7 hours of sleep last night, with a brief anti-nap at 3:30 to feed you.

You were 8 weeks old on Monday, and you're just amazing.  You've already grown and changed so much.  You're grabbing at things, you roll from belly to back like a champ, and you are able to hold your head up very well.  The most fun development for me is that you smile now, and you're trying to laugh.  The smiles are incredible.  I keep trying to catch my favorite one on film, but it's an elusive beast.

We are starting to get an idea of your likes and dislikes.  You seem to like dancing, Mythbusters, and Biggie.  (Twice, playing Biggie in the car has taken you from crying to sleep).  You seem not too fond of Tupac and the Pixies.

You had a busy weekend.  You left SC for the first time on Saturday.  We visited your family in GA.  You had a great time with Granny, Grandpa, Aunt ChaCha, and  Uncle Chuck.  You got to meet your Aunt Michele and Uncle Keith.  You seem to adore Granny and Grandpa.  They were making faces at you, and it cracked you up.  You were smiling your face off.  Why don't you do that for me??  It was pretty awesome to watch.

You weren't too keen on the 3 hour car ride though.  We had to stop on the way back to feed you in a parking lot.  On the whole, though, you did great.  We think you may be getting allergies.  You are sneezing and sniffling a bit.  You can thank your Dad for those.

<i>Things Amanda has Learned About Being A Parent #Whatever-Number-I'm-on</i>:  It's not about you anymore.

Every now and then, life likes to remind you that you aren't the center of the universe.  Never will that fact be more clear than it is after you become a parent.  You don't get to be the boss anymore.  Want a bath?  Too bad, baby is hungry.  Want to take a walk and get some of that baby weight off?  Too bad, baby wants to snuggle on the couch.  Want to eat?  Too bad, baby wants to play.  Want to arrive somewhere at a specific time?  Dream on.  You have been demoted.  You are no longer the head honcho.  You are the baby's chief of staff.

<i>Things Amanda Has Learned About Being a Parent #Whatever</i>:  Nothing makes you appreciate your mother like becoming one.

The uninitiated will think I'm referring to the pain of labor, but I'm not.  That experience was so intense and vivid and surreal that it's hard to characterize it as "difficult" or "painful."  No, what I'm talking about is everything that comes next -- those first 5 days when I didn't sleep...  the house I spent watching to see if you were still breathing... I'm talking about the heartbreaking struggle with breastfeeding, the excruciating decision to switch to formula, the sleep deprivation, the worries ... oh, the worries.

Is it too hot for him?

Is it too cold?

Is this swaddle tight enough?

Is it too tight?

Should he be sweating like that?

Why is he scratching himself?

Is that diaper rash?

Can he breathe slumped over like that?

Are his carseat straps too tight?

Is he strapped in tightly enough?

Is the cat going to scratch him?

Will the daycare make sure he sleeps on his back?

Did that guy wash his hands before he touched my baby?

Why isn't he pooping?

Why is he pooping so much?

Why does his poop look like that?

How does he get poop THERE?

Is he sleeping enough?

Is he sleeping too much?

Is he eating enough?

Are we over-feeding him?

What was that sound?

Why is he so quiet?

Is he breathing?

Why won't he burp?

Does he play enough?

Is he happy?

Is he comfortable?

Is he safe?

I'm talking about how immensely your life changes.  I'm talking about the way your heart pulls and stretches to accommodate such a deep love.  The truth is, until you do it yourself, no one can ever adequately describe to you how wonderful or how hard it is to be a parent.  I'm only 8 weeks in, but I can say that for certain.  You are just awesome. 

Love,

Mom

8 weeks, 2 days out of the oven

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Dear Alex,

as of yesterday, you are one month old! I can't believe how quickly the time has passed. It feels like you just got here (but it also feels like you've been here forever... strange).

A lot has happened so far. First off, you should know that I got help with the depression, and I feel so much better. I feel like a different person -- like myself again. So, you don't have to worry about that.

You've already done a lot, for a one-month old. You have visited your Aunt Krissi and Uncle Grant's house once, your Aunt Tia and Uncle Bobby's house twice, and your Obaachan's house several times. You've been to Drinking Liberally twice, and you've taken lots of walks around our neighborhood.

You've started smiling at us.

You've flipped over from your belly to your side, just once.

You have met a ton of new friends.

You've had about 200 pictures taken of you.

You have had your first poem read to you. It was "Howl" by Allen Ginsberg, which is highly inappropriate for a child. Lucky for me you don't understand words yet.

You have listened to a lot of music. You seem fond of Tom Petty, Toad the Wet Sprocket, and They Might Be Giants.

You have started wearing your cloth diapers (although you're in disposables right now because we are having to use diaper rash ointment on you).

You got health insurance.

You got your first piece of mail -- your social security card.

You had a toast made in your honor (at Drinking Liberally).

You have adapted well to the formula and seem to be happy and healthy.

Right now, your favorite things to do are riding in the car, swinging in your swing, eating, sleeping, and hanging out on your Daddy's chest. You're not overly fond of tummy time on your activity mat, but you put up with it for a little while.

You'll be starting daycare on March 12th. I hate to leave you, even for a few hours, with someone who doesn't love you unconditionally. I know they'll take good care of you though. We went to visit the place last week, and the teachers all seem very nice. There was only one baby there when we went because it was late in the day, but she seemed quite happy. It will probably be good for you to be around other babies and to have your routine shaken up a bit. I will miss having all day with you though.

You are totally amazing. We love you.

Love,
Mom
1 month, 1 day out of the oven

Dear Alex,

It is with a heavy heart that I write this letter.  All throughout my pregnancy, I intended to exclusively breastfeed you.  I did not consider any other possible options; I just assumed it would have to work out.  But after weeks of struggling to get our act together, we have made the decision to switch to formula feeding.

It breaks my heart to give you anything but breastmilk, but I have tried everything I can think of.  I have seen 4 lactation consultants, and I have tried several supplementation methods.  I have pumped and pumped to try to get my supply up, and I have struggled to get you latched on properly to feed.  It has become an agonizing ordeal for both of us, and you are not gaining any weight.  The most important thing for me is to make sure that you are fed, and for us, that means you're going to have to be fed formula.

I hope you will understand this decision.  It wasn't one I made lightly, and I have cried my eyes out about it.  I just want what is best for you, but that turns out to be a more complicated thing to define than I anticipated.  I want you to have the best food, but I also want you to have a mother who can keep her head on straight... and I want you to have ENOUGH food.

It's funny.  You come into pregnancy with so many lofty ideals, but you find yourself compromising when you look into the eyes of a child who, after trying to feed for an hour, is still crying for more food.  Please understand that your father and I love you very much, and we will always try to do the best things possible for you, even if that means making some tough, unpleasant decisions.

I love you so much.

Love,

Mom

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Dear Alex,

this letter is hard for me to write, but I feel like I should be honest with you about every step of our lives together.

I feel like I may be struggling with some postpartum depression. I know almost every woman gets some baby blues, but it feels like more than that. I've dealt with depression in the past, so I recognize the signs. Actually, because of the problems I've had in the past, I have been pretty hyper-vigilant about PPD.

What you have to understand is that this has NOTHING to do with how much I love you. The moment I saw you for the first time, I was in complete awe of how amazing you were. I simply couldn't believe that your father and I had made something this perfect. But sometimes, after a woman gives birth, the chemicals in her body get a little screwed up, and it's hard for her to be as happy as her heart knows it wants to be. It's very frustrating because she is constantly in the presence of a tiny miracle, and she finds herself overwhelmed, intimidated, and terrified -- more than is probably normal.

When you are older, you may watch a movie called "As Good As It Gets." It's a really good movie, so I hope you do. In it, Jack Nicholson's character has debilitating Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. He's out on a date with Helen Hunt's character, and he says something really hurtful to her. She wants to walk out, and she says the only way she will stay is if he pays her a really good compliment. The following conversation ensues:

Melvin: Okay, now. I got a great compliment for you, and its true.
Carol: I'm so afraid you're about to say something awful.
Melvin: Don't be pessimistic. It's not your style... Okay. Here I go. Clearly a mistake. I've got this...what?...ailment. My doctor, this shrink I used to go to all the time...he says in 50-60% of the cases a pill really helps. Now I hate pills. Very dangerous things, pills. I am using the word hate here with pills. Hate 'em. Anyway I never took them...then that night when you came over and said that you would never...well, you were there, you know what you said. And here's the compliment. That next morning, I took the pills.
Carol: I'm not quite sure how that's a compliment for me.
Melvin: You make me want to be a better man.

That's how you make me feel, little guy. In the past, I tried to find a lot of different ways to deal with my depression and anxiety. I took some herbal supplements, exercised a lot, and just tried to get out of the house and be with friends. Right now, I can't do any of those things, so it's hard. One of my doctors mentioned that PPD is one of the only forms of depression that doesn't generally respond well to talking therapy; it just has to be medicated because it's a physical, chemical, hormonal problem. I hate the idea of taking anti-depressants. I have never wanted to. But if that's what they think will help, I will be HAPPY to take them. I will gleefully take them every day, if that's what I have to do to get myself out of this funk. Because you make me want to be a better person.

You make me want to be a beacon of joy and hope in your life. I don't want to miss a second of happiness right now because you will only be this tiny and helpless and innocent for a very short time. I don't want to let it drag on for months, denying that anything might be wrong, and find myself in a hole too deep to get out of. I can't afford that kind of stubborn selfishness anymore. It's no longer about me. It's about you. And your Dad, who leaves me in awe every day, when I see how he is with you.

Now, from everything I've read, the baby blues are normal, and you should only be concerned if it drags on past a couple of weeks. So I made an appointment with my doctor for your two-week birthday, and if I still feel down, then we will do what we have to do. If there's anything I can teach you from this experience, it is this -- don't be afraid to ask for help when you need it. Don't be afraid to admit that something might be wrong.

I love you so much, and I hope you don't think less of me as a Mom. From what I hear, being a parent is about making sacrifices, so this time, I am sacrificing my unhealthy pride. I will do what I need to do.

Love,
Mom

9 days out of the oven