Dearest Bean,
I've been trying to find the right words for this entry for the last couple of days. I'm finding that's increasingly difficult to remain calm and clear-headed when I'm terrified. I'm also not entirely sure I will be able to put the crippling, mind-numbing fear into words. The reason I'm afraid is simple: tomorrow will be the first time I get to see you in a sonogram and hear your little heartbeat reassuring me that you're okay. Put plainly, I'm afraid you won't show up to the party and that there will be no heartbeat to listen to. I haven't been able to wrap my head around what I'm going to do if you aren't there, if this little person I've come to love so much has decided that maybe it's not the right time. This is certainly the first time I've experienced what I've come to consider a Mother's Fear. That phrase deserves so much more than capitalization. It needs to be bold, underlined, italicized in a font so enormous it defies logic and science. By the way, I am in no way melodramatic. There's a big difference between the average run-of-the-mill fear and a Mother's Fear. I never realized just how much of a difference there was until recently.
For instance I'm terrified of bees, vomit, and porcelain clowns; they all fall under the category of run-of-the-mill fear when put up against what I'm feeling now. A Mother's Fear is an all-encompassing paralysis with the fear for someone else - your child. I'm so scared for you Bean. I want you in my life so badly my very bones ache with the need to hold you in my arms and keep you safe from harm. While you're in my tummy there's not much I can do besides eating well, taking my vitamins, and staying hydrated. It drives me crazy that you're growing inside MY body and I have no control over making sure everything turns out okay. If it were up to me, I'd control every aspect of your upbringing from the moment of conception. I suppose this is just me learning what it means to be a parent, the constant need to make everything okay for you.
I'll end this particular diatribe now before I get myself too worked up and worried. All will be tomorrow, I'm sure of it. As always, you continue to be the light in my life.
Love,
Mama
2.24.2013
2.16.2013
Beanie Baby
Dear Bean,
You're scaring me, kiddo. Stop with the cramps please. Also? If you could knock off the vomiting that would be fantastic. You know how Mommy feels about vomit. It's not pretty for either of us.
I have a feeling this is going to quickly turn into a Bean Blog. That's okay. You're a big part of my world now and writing letters to you eases a lot of my internal turmoil (they also let your grandmother know that I'm not jumping off the hypothetical bridge yet). If I'm completely honest here, I feel incredibly guilty. I haven't always had nice thoughts about you. In fact, I was pretty certain you were going to ruin my life for a while there. I was employing every defense mechanism I had in my armory, even stooping to calling you a parasite. Sorry. Mom isn't always rational. Who knew? The pregnancy hormones in addition to the mental illness I struggle with on a daily basis was just too much for me to handle. Things seem to have leveled out some, though, and I'm grateful. At the same time I have this little irrational voice in the back of my mind telling me that somehow you know that I wasn't always happy about your sudden arrival and you're opting out which is why I have cramps. If you only knew how terrified I am of losing you. I've had one miscarriage and I'm still not over it. It probably has a lot to do with why I was so harsh about being pregnant. I was convinced I was going to lose you before you ever had a chance to prove me wrong, and I didn't want to hurt again. Can't blame me for that. But now I love you and I need you to stick around. Your father and I already have names picked out. I can't wait to find out whether you're an Addison Claire or a Simon Brent. I think you're a Simon but your Dad thinks you're an Addison. We'll see.
Speaking of your father... Let me tell you something, kid. You are one lucky sucker. You are going to have the greatest Dad. It's been an honor to watch him grow into his new role as husband and father. It's a role he embraces and I am so glad for that. Whenever I'm having one of my moments and I'm terrified he's always there to make me smile and remind me that you're worth it. Every time we talk about you, he gets a little twinkle in his eye. I couldn't have hand picked a better person to be your Dad. And we are so, so lucky. I hope I never forget that. Your father and I have a lot of love between us and we can't wait to share it with you. I hesitate to call you a blessing because that word has its roots in a religion I'm not fond of, but that's exactly what you are. You came at a time when I needed you most and I didn't even realize it. I can't wait to meet you. Hang in there.
Love,
Mama
You're scaring me, kiddo. Stop with the cramps please. Also? If you could knock off the vomiting that would be fantastic. You know how Mommy feels about vomit. It's not pretty for either of us.
I have a feeling this is going to quickly turn into a Bean Blog. That's okay. You're a big part of my world now and writing letters to you eases a lot of my internal turmoil (they also let your grandmother know that I'm not jumping off the hypothetical bridge yet). If I'm completely honest here, I feel incredibly guilty. I haven't always had nice thoughts about you. In fact, I was pretty certain you were going to ruin my life for a while there. I was employing every defense mechanism I had in my armory, even stooping to calling you a parasite. Sorry. Mom isn't always rational. Who knew? The pregnancy hormones in addition to the mental illness I struggle with on a daily basis was just too much for me to handle. Things seem to have leveled out some, though, and I'm grateful. At the same time I have this little irrational voice in the back of my mind telling me that somehow you know that I wasn't always happy about your sudden arrival and you're opting out which is why I have cramps. If you only knew how terrified I am of losing you. I've had one miscarriage and I'm still not over it. It probably has a lot to do with why I was so harsh about being pregnant. I was convinced I was going to lose you before you ever had a chance to prove me wrong, and I didn't want to hurt again. Can't blame me for that. But now I love you and I need you to stick around. Your father and I already have names picked out. I can't wait to find out whether you're an Addison Claire or a Simon Brent. I think you're a Simon but your Dad thinks you're an Addison. We'll see.
Speaking of your father... Let me tell you something, kid. You are one lucky sucker. You are going to have the greatest Dad. It's been an honor to watch him grow into his new role as husband and father. It's a role he embraces and I am so glad for that. Whenever I'm having one of my moments and I'm terrified he's always there to make me smile and remind me that you're worth it. Every time we talk about you, he gets a little twinkle in his eye. I couldn't have hand picked a better person to be your Dad. And we are so, so lucky. I hope I never forget that. Your father and I have a lot of love between us and we can't wait to share it with you. I hesitate to call you a blessing because that word has its roots in a religion I'm not fond of, but that's exactly what you are. You came at a time when I needed you most and I didn't even realize it. I can't wait to meet you. Hang in there.
Love,
Mama
2.03.2013
Untitled
To my darling Bean -
I'm so sorry. Your mom is having a really hard time right now. It's not your fault but some days I want to blame everything on you. I know you're going to light up my life in ways I never thought possible; in some ways you already have. Your grandmother thinks I've lost my mind. Maybe she's right. Scratch that - she is absolutely right. I've been thrown face first into a depression the likes of which I have never felt before. It physically aches to get out of bed in the morning because I know I'll see your grandmother glowing and smiling at the baby bump and your grandfather making damn sure I've taken my prenatal vitamins. Life lesson number one, Bean, TAKE YOUR PRENATAL VITAMINS OR YOU ARE A FAILURE. Just throwing that out there. With every step I take during the day I'm reminded that you're in there waiting, hoping I make it out the other side. I hope I make it too.
If I'm perfectly honest here, you are simultaneously the best and worst thing that has ever happened to me. I was told I couldn't have children. It took months of grieving for me to accept that I was going to die childless. And I came to the conclusion that it was okay. Yet against all odds, here you are, right now at what could be considered the worst possible time. You at least inherited that from me. Your father knew I was pregnant before I did. He started having fits about it and I actually laughed at him. I thought he was being ridiculous. Boy do I feel like an idiot. Evidently there is such a thing as a father's intuition and it whipped my ass. When I saw the pregnancy test come up positive, I walked downstairs, threw it at your dad and collapsed on the floor crying. To say that I was not pleased is an understatement. I hate having to say that, that I wasn't overcome with maternal joy and oozing happiness but it's the truth. Right now I'm clinging to life on a day to day basis and all I have left is the truth. I wish I could say I will never lie to you. I was lied to in my childhood about things that still fuck with me today. The sad truth is that I will absolutely lie to you if it will protect you from harm. I can't say I would do the same things that were done to me but I can certainly say I understand why those things happened a little bit better.
For the first two weeks or so I tried to chalk up these feelings to the changing hormones. I'm sure the hormonal changes aren't helping but it goes much deeper than I like to admit. Your grandmother thinks I should just "get rid of it" if I'm going to resent it. But that's the thing, Bean - I don't resent you. I actually love you. I would jump in front of a bus for you and you aren't even out of the womb yet. I want you to hang in there with me and know somewhere inside that your mother loves you more than anything in this world. You truly are a part of me. I'm just sick. I have a disease that I can't just shake off and the more I try to fake it the worse it gets. I'm absolutely terrified which is probably the only normal emotion that I'm feeling right now. I guess I'm rambling at this point but there's just so much I want to say. I just want you to know, above all else (and no matter what I may think on any given day), that you are MY Bean and no matter what happens, I will love you until the end of time.
Love,
Mama
I'm so sorry. Your mom is having a really hard time right now. It's not your fault but some days I want to blame everything on you. I know you're going to light up my life in ways I never thought possible; in some ways you already have. Your grandmother thinks I've lost my mind. Maybe she's right. Scratch that - she is absolutely right. I've been thrown face first into a depression the likes of which I have never felt before. It physically aches to get out of bed in the morning because I know I'll see your grandmother glowing and smiling at the baby bump and your grandfather making damn sure I've taken my prenatal vitamins. Life lesson number one, Bean, TAKE YOUR PRENATAL VITAMINS OR YOU ARE A FAILURE. Just throwing that out there. With every step I take during the day I'm reminded that you're in there waiting, hoping I make it out the other side. I hope I make it too.
If I'm perfectly honest here, you are simultaneously the best and worst thing that has ever happened to me. I was told I couldn't have children. It took months of grieving for me to accept that I was going to die childless. And I came to the conclusion that it was okay. Yet against all odds, here you are, right now at what could be considered the worst possible time. You at least inherited that from me. Your father knew I was pregnant before I did. He started having fits about it and I actually laughed at him. I thought he was being ridiculous. Boy do I feel like an idiot. Evidently there is such a thing as a father's intuition and it whipped my ass. When I saw the pregnancy test come up positive, I walked downstairs, threw it at your dad and collapsed on the floor crying. To say that I was not pleased is an understatement. I hate having to say that, that I wasn't overcome with maternal joy and oozing happiness but it's the truth. Right now I'm clinging to life on a day to day basis and all I have left is the truth. I wish I could say I will never lie to you. I was lied to in my childhood about things that still fuck with me today. The sad truth is that I will absolutely lie to you if it will protect you from harm. I can't say I would do the same things that were done to me but I can certainly say I understand why those things happened a little bit better.
For the first two weeks or so I tried to chalk up these feelings to the changing hormones. I'm sure the hormonal changes aren't helping but it goes much deeper than I like to admit. Your grandmother thinks I should just "get rid of it" if I'm going to resent it. But that's the thing, Bean - I don't resent you. I actually love you. I would jump in front of a bus for you and you aren't even out of the womb yet. I want you to hang in there with me and know somewhere inside that your mother loves you more than anything in this world. You truly are a part of me. I'm just sick. I have a disease that I can't just shake off and the more I try to fake it the worse it gets. I'm absolutely terrified which is probably the only normal emotion that I'm feeling right now. I guess I'm rambling at this point but there's just so much I want to say. I just want you to know, above all else (and no matter what I may think on any given day), that you are MY Bean and no matter what happens, I will love you until the end of time.
Love,
Mama
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