Monday, May 15, 2017

Dear Skip,


Dear Skip,

It's a Monday afternoon and your sister is sleeping forever. Mondays and long naps go well together, but so do Tuesdays and long naps and so on. You get the idea. 


Mother's Day and my birthday have come and gone and now I have very few excuses to justify buying antique hurricane lamps on Etsy and insisting we need another sheepskin rug. Although, that's where you come in. "Nesting", as preparing for a baby is so lovingly called, gives justification to even the most perplexing of online purchases. 


No wait, that's not how I want to start.

Hi little girl. It's hard to know where to begin with this letter, but I'm sorry I haven't written yet. It seems a bit daunting to follow suit with these letters after doing them for your sister. There is so much room for comparison when it comes to siblings, and sisters.

I want to remember these days for you because I know you won't. I want to remember the time when you were a tiny somersault under my heart. I want to write to you so you know how much you were wanted.

As much as I count down the minutes until this season of getting wider, surfing less, being an onlooker to cocktail hour and not being able to see you breathing will be over, nine months, in the zoomed-out perspective of life, is just a hiccup in time.

I am 24 weeks pregnant with you. I am five and a half or six months along. The internet can't really decide. We surf together in cold spring winds, walk the aisles of Trader Joe's and call it exercise, wear socks with dresses and sandals and quietly hope no one will reach out and touch us.

The swollen ankles haven't come, but they will and when the do no one needs to hear about them, but I want you to hear this:

I have asked for you in whispers, in the rain, during church at Catholic school, in notebooks...underwater. I knew I wanted you long before you were you.

You are a quiet force, a gentle presence, a reminder that so much good is meant to be had while we spin around on this ball of water and compacted dirt.

It's impossible to express how thankful I am that you have chosen me to be your home. It's impossible to truly know how much I will love you and know you and how we will grow as mother and daughter.

But I do know I'm glad to have you in this with me.


Love,

Momma

"My mother was my first country. The first place I ever lived." ~Nayyirah Waheed


p.s. Happy Mother's Day to all of you moms, mommas, mums, stepmothers, surrogates, aunts, caretakers, grandmothers, godmothers, supporters of mothers and on and on out there.
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3 comments:

  1. Amazing. Your writing moves me.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Beautifully written Devon, just exquisite. Glad you are doing well, the last photo is gorgeous. CJ xx

    ReplyDelete
  3. Beautiful, as always. Hope you had a lovely mama's day. xx

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