Work Text:
December 23, 2012
Our early Christmas gift! We found last week that you’re in your mommy’s belly, the size of a sesame seed. I can’t believe in a few weeks you’ll have hands and feet, and fingernails. I hope you have your mom’s eyes—she has the most beautiful eyes. You’ll know what I’m talking about once you see her. You’ll fall right in love with her, and I won’t even be envious that she’s your favorite. Your mom is everyone’s favorite.
Your grandma told me she kept one of these when she was pregnant with your mom, so I thought I’d do the same. I told your mom she could write, too, but I don’t think she will. But that’s okay, you still have me.
With so much love,
Your dad
February 10, 2013
Guess who has a heartbeat now?
I don’t think I’ve ever had such a beautiful sound. Better than any melody I’ve ever heard, than Mozart even. (Don’t tell your mother I said that, she is very big on him for some reason.)
You have all your limbs now, even a little face. You’ll look just like your mom, I think. Your mom says she hopes you have my hair and I told her she was crazy.
She’s making dinner now. She still insists on doing everything because she’s ‘pregnant, not injured.’ I think I’ll describe her to you, this way when you read it in fifteen years’ time, you’ll know just what she was like at this time.
Her hair runs down below her shoulder blades, dark brown and curly. She wants to grow it out while she’s pregnant and put in braids just before you get here. Every detail about her is beautiful, from her nose to her collarbones to her hands. She doesn’t like when I tell her she’s pretty; she says she’d rather me compliment her on something she’s good at, like tennis or piano. She says those are the things that matter.
She has this tick where she rubs her knee every time she gets nervous. I like to kiss it every time I see her do it. She’s telling me off now for staring at her.
Forever,
Daddy
March 21, 2013
A girl!!! Our baby girl!!!
We found out this morning, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen your mommy so happy. I swear, she wasn’t even that happy on our wedding day. When I brought that up, she scowled then insisted it was because she was afraid of tripping while walking down the aisle. Sure. (Don’t tell her I don’t believe her.)
If you were a boy, your mom wanted to name you Archie since it isn’t too far from my name. She is not a fan of juniors.
Now that we know you’re a girl, we’re thinking of summer sounding names since you’ll come to us in the middle of it. Summer is too on the nose; your mom said Clementine was too long; she knows too many women named Rose; you’re coming after June, so June just wouldn’t work, she said. She’s stubborn. I love her.
We’ve watered it down to five: Aster. Poppy, Iris, Lily, and Daisy, all flower names.
Our flower girl, we love you so much.
See you soon,
Daddy
April 29, 2013
Art Your dad is setting up the crib and told me I should pass the time by writing. I’m not exactly sure what to say here. I read his other entries, and I don’t know how he does it, just talking to a piece of paper.
I guess I’ll just talk about what we did today. I’m twenty-three weeks, and my belly is obvious now. People no longer squint at me and try to discern whether I’ve gained weight or if I’m expecting, but rather say ‘congratulations’, It’s degrading. I wonder if other pregnant women feel the same; I think they must.
We were only supposed to pick up groceries, but Art your dad wanted to pass by the baby section, and I can never deter him once he’s on a mission. He insisted on getting a crib, because “What if they suddenly stop making this model by the time she’s almost here?” They probably won’t, but he was convincing and I folded. I still think it’s still too early to be setting up a nursery, but your father thinks we’re already twenty steps behind.
He wants to sign us up for parenting classes, and I tell him they’ll probably be a waste of time, but he’ll probably get me to agree when he gets me in a good mood. I tell him he should focus on training, but he says he’s doing just fine, that tennis can wait. I tell him that’s a very stupid way to think.
I’ve been having these dreams, mostly about you. I imagine you in the baring sun, tennis racket in hand, smiling and waving up at me, before you melt into the tennis court. I have no idea what it means, yet it terrifies me. I pray to God I never force you into the sport, or that you ever become curious. It’s not a life I’d want you to have.
From the moment I first felt you squirming inside me, I knew I loved you. In such an uncomplicated way. I didn’t even have to think about it, I just knew I loved you from one day to the other. I think, and I don’t mean to start sounding all poetic like your father here, it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever felt. I did not expect to be this way. The moment I found out I was pregnant, I was so afraid I didn’t even fully believe it, even after the first ultrasound. It wasn’t until you began moving around that it fully set in. Now, I sit up with my arms cradled, imagining you in there. I imagine your features, mine and your dad’s mixed together, I wonder who you’ll like better. I wouldn’t be surprised if you liked him better, he is easy to love.
I love him very much, even if I never say it, but please don’t tell him. My little flower, I can’t wait to see your face.
All my love,
your mom.
May 24, 2013
I told your mom not to come to France with me, but she insisted. Like I mentioned before, she is stubborn. She has swelled up, not just in her belly, but her feet and cheeks, too. She is still as beautiful as ever, though she won’t let me tell her. If I stare at her for a moment too long, she leaves the room.
She’s been reading book after book about how to deal with babies once they come. When we’re laying in bed, she’ll suddenly throw facts at me. “Did you know they can hiccup, even in the womb?”
I rub lotion on her and let her tell me all about what she’s learned. I haven’t seen her this passionate about something since she stopped playing. She has the perfect mixture of rough and smooth in her voice.
We hung up an ultrasound picture over our hotel bed. We like having you everywhere. Your mom said it’s weird to think that by the US Open we’ll have a baby. I don't know how she manages to bring tennis up in moments where it seems so insignificant and faraway. That’s just her, I guess.
Our little flower,
your daddy loves you
June 10, 2013
Your dad didn’t make it very far in the French Open, so we won’t talk about it. Instead, we’ll talk about you. You have my nose and your dad’s lips, and the obstetrician thinks you’ll have a full head of hair by the time you’re here. I’m already feeling the constant heartburn, and yet I only find it endearing.
You react to nearly everything now, from our voices to the light flickering on, to me shifting positions. You react the most to your dad’s voice, which doesn’t surprise me one bit. He talks to you the most, resting his cheek against my stomach and whispering to you about his day. It has become second nature to me now. I never get half of the things he’s saying.
We’ve also decided on your name: Lily. Our Lily flower. We’ll work the middle name out later.
Don’t tell your father this, and I hope he does not read it, but seeing him this way has
Only two more months, my angel girl. Two more months until I get to hold you against my breast and see you look up at me with those eyes of yours. I will cherish every part of you, from your head to your toes.
Mama loves you, Lily.
July 6, 2013
Your mom did not want to have a baby shower, but your grandmother coaxed her. Thank her later, because now you have more clothes that can even fit in your closet, and too many toys you won’t even be able to play with until years later.
Your mom spends more time in the nursery now than she does in the living room or in our bedroom. She sits in the rocking chair, busying herself with a book or attempting to knit.
Sometimes, she’ll even eat her meals there. I’ll make dinner, and after calling out her name a few times with no response, I’ll plate the food and make my way to your room. We sit and talk about what’s to come.
I did not know something that’s still not here could overtake our lives this much. You’re all we think about, even when we’re trying to have conversations about other things, somehow it’ll land back to you. Whenever we watch a movie we like, we wonder if in fifteen years time you’ll like it, too. If we hear a song on the radio, we wonder what your music taste will be like. When we go to sleep, we think about how in a month's time one of us will be waking up to soothe you back to sleep.
You are our favorite nuisance that’s still yet to be.
Forever with love,
your dad
Your mom read this and told me to take back calling you a nuisance, so I’m taking it back. She told me to tell you that you will never be a nuisance. We love you, our Lily. (I meant you're a nuisance in the most affectionate way. The same way your mother sometimes is. Tashi, I’m sorry if you read this; I love you.)
August 5, 2013
You’re sleeping on your mama’s chest. You came to us at noon, at exactly 12:43 P.M., with a full head of curly hair. You look like your mommy, just like I predicted. For that first hour, all we did was stare at you. Meeting you felt like returning to a familiar place after years. It feels like we’ve known you for years, like you’ve been here, with us, the entire time.
I’ve been thinking back to many moments, back to the first time I met your mom, the first time she kissed me, the first time she said she loved me (begrudgingly so). All these moments led us right to you, Lily flower, without us even knowing.
You’re getting fussy now, so I’ll keep this short. Whenever it comes that you read this, just know that we loved you from the moment we first saw you, from the moment we first found out about you, when you were the size of a sesame seed. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me. If everything was taken away from me tomorrow, I’d be fine with just having you and your mom; nothing else matters to me now.
With every ounce of love,
your daddy
August 17, 2013
I still can’t really believe you’re here, our Lily flower. I find myself every so often just touching your hands, your face, your feet, just to make sure you’re really alive. I stand over your crib and watch you breathe, imagine your little lungs, watch your chest rise and then fall.
I carry you around with me everywhere, and when your dad insists I should rest, I just keep you with me. I hate falling asleep because it means being away from you.
Everything in the last few weeks has seemingly ceased to exist. For the first time in my life, tennis has become an afterthought. I don’t even bicker with your dad about how he should be training more, I don’t even care for the time being.
I miss feeling you squirm in my belly, but I love it even more feeling you squirm in my arms.
Knowing one day you’ll grow up excites me and terrifies me at the same time. Promise me you’ll try to grow up as slow as possible. I never want you to leave our bed, our house. Stay with us forever, even when we’re old and gray.
My love forever and ever,
your mommy.