These are letters to Jack, my son, and my daughter, Audrey. You have given me the gift of motherhood. This is just a little gift back. I want to share my experiences with you of your childhood from my perspective of watching you grow - of being your Mom.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
28 February 2006 - Letter from Aunt Erin
Boy do we miss you. It’s been three weeks since we’ve seen you. That’s probably the longest we’ve gone without seeing you in this whole first year of your life.
About three weeks ago, you started getting sick. Since then, you’ve run the gamut of illnesses, from fever and ear infections to a nasty case of the rota virus. As parents of a two-month-old, your Uncle Brett and I have needed to keep our distance in an effort to keep your cousin healthy. And the result is that we miss you very much indeed.
Tomorrow is the first day of March, which is your birthday month. Like everyone else in the family, I can hardly believe you are already one year old. Yet in another way, I can hardly imagine my world without you in it.
I often call you a ham because you have a way of making people laugh. Your giggle is contagious and you enjoy the comedic effect you have on others. After your cousin Calum was born, I went for several weeks with very little sleep. On the Tuesday when Cal was three weeks old, I was exhausted to the point that I wondered if I had the strength to smile. I was sitting in your Grandma’s living room nursing your cousin and you started to play peek-a-boo with me. I found myself laughing in spite of it all. You were a glimmer of light when I needed it most.
Since you have gotten sick with this roto virus, we have thought about you day and night. In a selfish way, it has been difficult on us to stay away from you. Your Uncle Brett calls home from work several times a day to see if I have any news about you. I want so badly to come over there, scoop you up into a big hug and stroke the few strands of hair on that bald head. I miss dancing and singing with you. You wave your little hands in the air as I sing, so sweet in your acceptance of my song no matter how off-key.
In the past two weeks, your Mommy and Daddy have had some scary, sleepless nights. They have stayed up all night, holding you and trying to keep fluids in you to keep you out of the hospital. When I have seen your Mom in the past few days, I commented to her that she looked so tired. She truly didn’t seem to notice her own fatigue; you are their one concern. We’re thankful that you are young enough and won’t remember this sickness. But what you will carry with you is how well your Mommy and Daddy have cared for you. That is a feeling that is instilled deep inside you; you are loved, little boy, and your family will always be here for you.
You are a bright, sweet, curious bugger. When you grow up, I am confident you can become whatever you dream of becoming (except perhaps for a judge on American Idol, based on how you like my singing). You are also tough and we know you will come out of this okay, if a little skinny. This morning, you’re Grandma told me that you kept down some solid foods and were smiling. She said you seemed like your happy self, just a bit leaner. I am so happy to hear it.
In two weeks, we will celebrate your birthday. Keep on getting better, little buddy. You’ve got lots of birthday cake waiting for you!