A Letter to My Newborn Baby
Soon after my baby was born, one of my grad school instructors suggested that I write a letter to my baby about how I felt at that moment. I took her advice, and wrote the following letter from my heart. Now, it’s a keepsake in Siena’s baby book. I plan to write an additional letter again at 6 months (in a couple of weeks), another at one year old and then one each year after that. It’s a great way to preserve those precious feelings. Here’s the letter:
March 28, 2009
Here I am looking at your beautiful face – the face of an angel. It is a face so unique, yet so familiar. I knew this face instantly when a first looked at you – as if I have always known you. I loved you right away and immediately wanted to do everything I could to protect you, to keep you safe, warm and happy.
Siena, you are 11 days old now. You were born 15 days early (on St. Patrick’s Day). If you hadn’t come early, you’d still be inside of me for another 5 days (based on your due date). I’m so glad I didn’t have to wait that long to meet you, and that I was given even more time to spend with you, to look into your eyes, gaze at your beautiful face, to get to know you.
I am in love. It is a love like none other. Other parents have always told me that the love a mother has for her child is the deepest love she will ever have. Now, I understand what they mean by that. It is indescribable. It is all-consuming. It is unconditional. I am in awe of you. You have already shown your own personality, and asserted your own will. I delight in learning about you, and I am so excited about getting to know you better. I have the honor of raising you – of giving you your childhood, of watching you grow up, of witnessing who you will be, as I guide you to the best of my ability along the way. What a miracle, a gift, and a blessing you are.
I am different now. Having you has changed me. From the moment you were born, I have become someone else, someone new, someone better. My life has a whole new meaning. I am a mother. Now, you come first. Not a second goes by when I’m not thinking about you. I worry about you and must constantly check to see that you are okay. Even when I sleep, I’m not fully asleep because I am thinking about you.
I can spend endless time just looking at you. I hold you in my arms and stare at your perfect little features. I can do this all day long. It gives me a thrill to see you open your eyes (which are now a dark blue gray color) and look at me. You study my face as if you are trying to get to know me. You seem to know my voice (as you had 8 ½ months to get familiar with it). You even seem to enjoy my singing.
I watch you as you make an assortment of facial expressions – you pout your lips, you roll your eyes back, you frown and furrow your brow, you make sucking motions, and you smile. Meanwhile, you let out these cute little squeaks. Then, your face returns to a peaceful angelic sleeping state. It is the cutest little facial routine.
You enjoy your swing, in which you rock back and forth as sounds of nature, a spinning mobile and a little light show entertain and/or lull you to sleep. I love to watch you in your daddy’s arms as he reads you story books. You seem to be listening to him as you study his lips as he reads.
For the last 9 months, I have been preparing for your arrival. It has been a time of excitement and a few challenges. Early on in the pregnancy, I found out I had a large cyst on my right ovary that had to be surgically removed or I could lose you. So, at 18 weeks pregnant, I had surgery to remove the grapefruit-sized cyst and the ovary. You survived this trauma, and have flourished ever since. From then on, I considered you strong. Your daddy called you a miracle.
Siena, I am so thankful for you. I look forward to the journey that you, your daddy, and I will travel together. We have so much to look forward to, so many milestones to accomplish, and memories to make. Along the way, I will cherish each moment as I know time will pass much too quickly.
Copyright © Lori Granieri 2009