A Painted House

Dear Edison: Due Date Letter

Posted on: January 5, 2011

Note:  Readers from my former blog will be familiar with the monthly letters I write to my babies for the first two years of their lives.   As each new letter will be posted here I will be moving over all previous letters to my archives for continuity.  Thanks for your patience as I work on all this administrative stuff!


My second son,

Today is your due date!   This is the first of many letters you will receive from me over your lifetime, detailing out your most important accomplishments, the mundane details of your childhood that your Mama never wants to forget, and the most embarrassing childhood moments I can find. Starting with the nickname I gave you to keep your given name a secret before your arrival: Peep.  I know, I know, nothing says strapping young man like calling you after a marshmallow duck covered in sparkly sugar. Sorry.  We didn’t know that you were a boy when I came up with it and I had sparkly sugar on the brain because we learned of your existence during the week of Easter.  I promise we won’t keep it up after you get here, you do have a carefully chosen and gender-appropriate name waiting for you.  Let’s just chalk this one up as a way to keep you humble when you’re all grown up and impressive and founder of the most successful Mexican food manufacturing company to ever exist, from which you send me gallons of free nacho cheese as thanks for giving you life.  What?  A mother can dream.

So, your due date.  The date on which we may reasonably start to expect that you may join us out here at any time.  All though it seems, as I sit here on the couch with no signs that you’re at all motivated to hold up your end of this I-give-you-a-home-next-to-my-liver-for-40-weeks-then-you-COME-OUT bargain, that you’ve been talking with your brother James.  He too thoroughly ignored his due date to the point of forced eviction eleven.days.later.  And while I’m proud that you’re already bonding with your big brother, I don’t appreciate that you’re conspiring against me even before your first breath.  Let me give you a piece of motherly advice: right now it’s to your advantage to listen to me, your Mama, the person responsible for shoving you out into this world and then your source of food once you get here, than your brother who is likely to spend the next few weeks trying to figure out how to shove you back where you came from.  Just sayin’.

Baby boy, we can’t wait to meet you and call you by name and watch you grow into the amazing person God has created you to be.  But to be honest, your arrival is also simultaneously terrifying.  Your Dad and I have been down the road of welcoming a new person into our family and we still remember both the highs and lows of such a big change. This time we’re going into it with our eyes wide open, fully knowing what to expect from those first few months when you’re figuring out how this world works; how to sleep, how to eat, how you can dirty fifteen outfits in one day’s time because you really like the sound of the washing machine.  And yes, it’s scary to face that all again.  But somewhere in these long months spent waiting for you we transitioned from wondering what adding you to our family would do to our schedule and expectations, to eagerly anticipating just how awesome it will be to have you in our lives.  And I can say without a moment’s hesitation that no matter what the next few weeks bring as we figure out what it looks like to be a family of four, you are so well worth it.  Now please, pack your bags and work your way toward the light.  There’s a family out here who desperately wants to meet its fourth member and cuddle you close.

Love, Mama


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