Letters to Avery: One month

Dear Avery,

As I write this letter, you are sleeping strapped to my chest, your brothers are playing bowling in the entryway before school and before this first sentence has even been completed, I've had to take a potty break with Jackson because "poop's coming.". So if it seems like this letter is all over the place, it probably is, and it reflects our lives these days.


The past month can be described as many things.  Joyful, chaotic, maddening, blissful, tiring, hilarious, and blurry.  You were born in a bathtub on your own terms and you've established that you will not be forgotten in the chaos of the family.  Your screams make sure of that.  You get less one-on-one time during the day, so you stay up all night to ensure your parents undivided attention.  You amaze me by your ability to go from complete calm and peace to complete anger and screams.  I know you have tummy troubles and it makes me sad not only for my own plight, but because I know you are in pain.

You're our first and only daughter and I love to imagine how you will fit in with your brothers, who are two peas in a pod.  They love you completely after only one month and are super proud to show you off to anyone who wants to see you.  Brady and Avery have taken to calling your by your full name, "Avery Kay," though nobody is sure why.  And Brady loves to rub your head, which was predictable but bizarre.  I wouldn't be mad if you weren't a baby that became attached to my hair like your brothers. But I suppose there are worse traits.

 

Just a warning, as the youngest child and two older brothers myself, I'll tell you what worked for me.... keeping my fingernails long (hey, you have to use your assets to defend yourself).  I am sure your brothers will be kind, but don't be afraid to defend yourself when necessary.

We are back from preschool drop-off.  You screamed the whole way there and most of the way back.  I am glad you are my third baby, because I have a bit of a better grasp on how short this difficult period is in the overall scheme of life.  Things that I'd never imagine I could forget with your brothers (sleepless nights, screaming fits, tummy troubles) are already distant memories mostly forgotten (but thanks to my blog and letters to my kids, preserved for eternity).  But then there are moments of such sweetness, like right now as you lie on my chest.  These moments are rare in our busy life -- you often have to grab naps in the car, the swing, a stroller, or a wrap, which means the moment I am having right now is one I will cherish.

Avery, my eyelids may be droopy and my patience may wear thin, but I have a full heart because you have entered our lives.

I love you so very much,

Love,

Mom