Dear Alice,
It's been a couple months since my last letter. I had hoped things would be better by now, but we're ALL struggling. Last week I got to hold you in the pink chair at bedtime (how are you the size of an actual kid already??!) and when we finished singing you burst into tears, turned your head to my chest and begged, “mama never let me go!” For a moment I just stopped breathing. Because I am shattered. From exhaustion. From poor, poor screamy baby that no one seems to be able to help. From the garage burning down and our stupid neighbor trying to stop the rebuild. But mostly from you and your valiant attempts to be brave and adaptable on a daily basis in the midst of this total chaos and stress. I just don't know where we got such an amazing kid (kid!! Again, when did you become a kid!?). I had to feed you some crap about how I know things are hard right now but they'll get better and we'll have lots of nuggles the next day… I mean really, was I fooling either of us??
And then tonight happened. I had you curl up with a blanket and your bunnies while we waited for Dada to shower so I could nurse Alafair and sing to you both. I looked down to see this:
It's been a couple months since my last letter. I had hoped things would be better by now, but we're ALL struggling. Last week I got to hold you in the pink chair at bedtime (how are you the size of an actual kid already??!) and when we finished singing you burst into tears, turned your head to my chest and begged, “mama never let me go!” For a moment I just stopped breathing. Because I am shattered. From exhaustion. From poor, poor screamy baby that no one seems to be able to help. From the garage burning down and our stupid neighbor trying to stop the rebuild. But mostly from you and your valiant attempts to be brave and adaptable on a daily basis in the midst of this total chaos and stress. I just don't know where we got such an amazing kid (kid!! Again, when did you become a kid!?). I had to feed you some crap about how I know things are hard right now but they'll get better and we'll have lots of nuggles the next day… I mean really, was I fooling either of us??
And then tonight happened. I had you curl up with a blanket and your bunnies while we waited for Dada to shower so I could nurse Alafair and sing to you both. I looked down to see this:
And I shattered again (how is this even possible??). Because I've been singing, “One night I was dreaming/I had a baby/I was holding you in my arms/when I woke dear/I was mistaken/so I hung my head and cried,” to you since before you were born. It's the second verse to “You Are My Sunshine” of course, and I've always equated it with the long, long wait we had for your arrival. But now here we are, somehow, impossibly, on the fast approach to your 4th birthday, and you are a baby no more.
There you were, snuggling my foot (this is what we've been reduced to), making every attempt to avoid being weepy that you've been relegated to the floor while I hold another in my arms, AND managing to smile at me!! My God. I don't know how to manage love this fierce. I want to scoop you up and just never let go. And incorporating this new love into our lives has been harder than ANYTHING I've ever imagined. I actually know that we're doing the best we can right now. Stepping back to look at the big picture, we're mostly okay. But that doesn't stop me from feeling like I'm failing you in a million tiny ways every day. One day, a long time from now, you might understand. I hope you feel the ferocity of my love in the meantime. My sweet sweet girl, “You are my Sunshine, please don't take my Alice away.”
Love, Mama
There you were, snuggling my foot (this is what we've been reduced to), making every attempt to avoid being weepy that you've been relegated to the floor while I hold another in my arms, AND managing to smile at me!! My God. I don't know how to manage love this fierce. I want to scoop you up and just never let go. And incorporating this new love into our lives has been harder than ANYTHING I've ever imagined. I actually know that we're doing the best we can right now. Stepping back to look at the big picture, we're mostly okay. But that doesn't stop me from feeling like I'm failing you in a million tiny ways every day. One day, a long time from now, you might understand. I hope you feel the ferocity of my love in the meantime. My sweet sweet girl, “You are my Sunshine, please don't take my Alice away.”
Love, Mama
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