One.

Dear Wesley,

Right now, you are sleeping peacefully on your side, your full belly protruding ever-so-slightly from the 24M(?!) pajamas that I dressed in you in hours ago. Your face is serious but peaceful, your body relaxed and long, and your breathing is slow and steady. Your sister sleeps a few feet away, and I know it's just a matter of hours before you two giggle back and forth as you welcome the start of a new day. Today is your birthday, and although you two usually end the day with the same shared giggles that you begin with, you were both so tired that you fell asleep within minutes.

Holding a photo of himself taken
on his first day on his first birthday.

I think back to the relatively tiny bundle of baby that I first met one year ago today and can't believe how fast the last 12 months have passed. I vividly remember holding you in our hospital room, feeling the weight of your exhausted body as we waited for a short-staffed nursing team to come get you for some tests and a bath. As much as I needed some rest, I couldn't stop examining your crinkled ears, readjusting the swaddle of your blanket to cover up those precious toes and watching the expressions you made in your sleep. We had both had a rough day, but in the effort and exertion that was labor (mine) and delivery (yours), there was so, so much joy.

Beach Baby says "Mmmmm, sand."

You have been a blessing from the moment we found out about you, and every day has revealed more of the happiness you bring. You are most certainly your own person, and as I think back to the day you were born I can see so many traits that have carried through your first year, from your laid back attitude to your unstoppable energy to your almost constant pleasant demeanor.

You were in no rush to arrive, but once you did, you became a force to be noticed, starting with your early days of colic to your more recent discovery of your voice and the noises you can make with various objects you find. You can be an observer just as much you are a little man of action, and you're content to just stand and watch the world - as long as you have a marker or plastic hammer to carry in your hand and occasionally shove in your mouth. It's funny to see how your "comfort object" is often a plastic spoon - if it's not in your mouth you're using it to gesture or bang on the floor as you babble something that is obviously very important and not to be ignored.

Joyful lover of birthday cupcakes.

And just as you can be watchful and still, you can be a ball of energy with little time or need for naps because there is too much to do, too much to see, not enough calm and quiet to slow down from it all. You play hard, but when you finally do rest, you rest hard. I fully credit your ability to fall in to a deep, long sleep almost every night to the fact that you barely pause for naps during the day during the week. You'll allow a morning nap at home, but at daycare you find it hard (and probably needless) to nap long, if at all. So at night (and sometimes for long, luxurious weekend naps), you collapse in to the heavy sleep that allows me to see you pause long enough to remember that small newborn that rested on my chest in that hospital room 365 days ago, eyes puffy and swollen from newness and limbs curled up from nine months spent in an increasingly cramped space.

On the go and couldn't be cuter if he tried.

I can not get over how handsome and sweet you are and am sure I will embarrass you for the rest of your life with proclamations of both attributes. You are also truly one of the most pleasant, happy human beings I have ever seen. Sure, when you're not pleasant and happy, you are very much not pleasant and happy, but you're only human, and that's to be expected. You are constantly chattering cheerfully and smiling and laughing - I absolutely adore the noises you make and wish I could bottle them up. You find such simple things to be absolutely hilarious, and I hope that happens forever. The relationship you have with your sister warms my heart and makes me smile - you are enamored with her and find nearly everything she does to be fascinating and entertaining.

It's hard to memorize the features and moments in time that pass so quickly, erasing one another at lightning speed. But today, I let myself slow down and recall certain moments of the day you were born. It's hard to believe it was a year ago and not just yesterday. Your birth day was a day that certainly changed my life - and the lives of others - in so many wonderful ways, and I will be forever grateful for the memories and little person that day produced. I am so very glad you're ours, and I look forever to celebrating more days, memories and milestones with you as well as revisit that special day you arrived in our arms.

I love you, sweet boy, always and forever.

Mommy

A belated letter to my son

Dear Wesley,

It has been a while since I wrote to you. For that, I sincerely apologize.  It's not because I didn't want to write - there have been many times when I've had a post mentally composed, but by the time I get in front of a computer, the words are lost or jumbled. At this point, you've been out of the womb nearly as long as you were in.

I know that some people say that a second child immediately fit in to their lives - "like they'd been there all along" or "we can't remember a time without him/her." To be honest, you didn't fit in to our lives immediately. In our hearts, yes, without a doubt. But it took longer than I expected to feel like we'd even started to figure this family-of-four thing out. I felt like we were all awkward dance partners - tripping, cutting, flailing from one song to the next. Fortunately, after a few weeks, we fell in to a smooth rhythm, and it truly did feel like the four of us were a perfect fit. We wouldn't trade you for the world.

Your first six or so weeks were full of a distinct pattern - eat, sleep, scream-cry, repeat. It wasn't a very enjoyable time for any of us. But after the end of your sixth week, your alert awake times were no longer dreadful. There were times when you would look at us with your then-dark blue eyes and just stare. Not scream. Just stare. And sometimes you'd even grace us with your gummy smile. You would think it was Christmas when you flash your grin around here, buddy - we all acted like idiots trying to get you to smile more, to laugh a little bit, to see more of your happy self emerge day by day.

Soon after you truly emerged from your colic-y times, I returned to work, and I felt like I'd barely gotten a chance to get to know the "real" you. Even though I feel like I miss a lot while I'm at work, I have learned a few things about you in the last several months.

I've learned that you are extremely smart. I think you are far wiser than you should be at such a young age. Your meltdowns during your sister's bedtime would immediately turn to coy smiles when I rush to leave her room because you were fussing so much. You knew exactly what you were doing - you wanted undivided, immediate attention, and that definitely hasn't changed. When you are mad or sad, you are 100% mad or sad. But the minute you get the attention you're seeking, you smile, laugh, talk and you're like an entirely different little person. You've surprised us with this calm, cheerful demeanor - many times when we've been most concerned about how you'll behave, like on a trip to Disney or during our family photos, and you've been happy and patient and peaceful. (Your sister, on the other hand, has often been quite the opposite, but that's another letter for another day.) This has become the norm for you - as long as your most basic of needs are met, you're perfectly content and are usually happy to just go with the flow.

I've learned that you adore your sister. I absolutely love watching you two. You immediately perk up when you hear her voice. You have a look of awe with a dash of anxiety thrown in when she's around - the anxiety is understandable because she tends to be a bit "in your face" and hand-grabby. But you're enchanted. If you were nursing (usually a very focused time for you) and you heard her voice, you'd stop and look around until you found her. She loves you to pieces. She insists on "doing something to him" before she leaves a room - she always wants to "kiss ya." I don't think she's even considered that some day soon you'll kiss back, or that you'll toddle behind her and try to mimic her every move.

I've learned that you pack on the pounds like it's your job. You're filling out each day - you quickly lost the bony butt that you were born with. You certainly enjoy eating. You have gotten so long that it's unbelievable. People constantly guess that you are much older than you are and remark on your size.

I've learned your different cries. I don't think I was ever able to pinpoint your sister's cries like I can identify your hungry cry, your tired cry, your gassy cry, your lonely cry or your general discomfort cry.

I've learned that you're very much a people person. You respond quickly and appropriately to every word directed to you, every smile or coo that a stranger or friend shares. Your daycare provider's husband has deemed you the absolute happiest baby ever, and again, as long as your basic needs are met, you really are. You even survive, happily, with far less sleep during the day than should be humanly possible for someone your age.

I've also learned that you're going to push limits and be my troublemaker. Not out of malicious or vindictive intent, but just out of pure curiosity and disregard to potential danger. You grab at things that you shouldn't. You grin when told "no" or to "stop it." You've attempted many a roll or drop from your changing table, and I'm convinced that you will give me far more gray hairs than your sister ever did in her first two years. 

You're also pretty ticklish.

Until recently your principle mode of transportation was seamless rolls - you effortlessly rolled in one direction or another to reach your desired location. Now you prefer to army crawl, grunting with effort with every heave of your weighty little body. Without seeing you, I can tell when you're beelining for the cats, because the grunts are punctuated with an excited squeal or high growl. As you near true crawling, I can see that we will be constantly challenged by your speed, determination and intrigue.

You, my sweet boy, have reminded me how fun this whole baby thing can be (you know, except the whole first two months of pure and utter colic-y chaos - have I mentioned that wasn't a fun time?). You soak everything in and copy so much and just leave me amazed that we made you, that you're ours, and that this is just the beginning. You're an intense little dude, and while I can definitely see parts of your sister in your looks, your dad tells me constantly that you look just like him when he was a baby. One thing is for sure - you very much look like your dad's father, Grandpa Bob. You have his nose, and I can only hope you also get his intelligence, work ethic and wit, too.

Already, you have grown and changed and developed from a squishy, cranky newborn to a solid, happy infant in the blink of an eye. I know the changes won't stop - and I don't want them to - but at the same time, I wish I could slow down time, or freeze parts ... you're my favorite little guy, and I marvel at all that you are, and all that you will be. I look forward to your laughs, noises and smiles constantly. I listen to you sigh in your sleep and feel a peace wash over me. I could listen to you babble forever - your innocent little baby noises are absolutely adorable, and I know that as quickly as you evolved from baby grunts to baby babbles, you'll speak real words, and soon you'll be a vocal toddler just like your sister.

I'm not rushing any parts of your infancy (well, nothing after the colic, because really, that was hard, and I am thankful you emerged from that with such a cheerful disposition), but it is certainly flying by. It is definitely now hard to remember a time before you, and you make our family complete and our hearts full. I look forward to learning more about who you are and delighting in your happy, curious personality - you are so incredibly special to us, and I hope you always know that.

Love,
Mama (P.S. Work on saying that, please.)

Dear Wesley

Dear Wesley,

Suddenly, we're 10 weeks from your due date. Really, there isn't much that HAS to be done at this point - no nursery to decorate, just some modifications to think about making to your sister's current room. No massive amount of baby gear to buy, just the eventual need to locate, clean and prepare all of the stuff we have. No major cloth diaper purchases to research or make. No car seats to research or purchase. No crib or dresser to assemble. No childbirth preparation classes to attend. (I keep wondering if there have been revelations in labor and delivery that I've missed in the last almost three years since I first did it.) In comparison to our experience with your sister, things are pretty laid back, really. Are my toes doubling in size in painful, hot swelling? Yes. Am I physically exhausted without even exerting myself on a daily basis? Yes. But overall? Things are simplistic this time around.

Because things are so different this time (both in the relatively few needs we have for your arrival and the craziness that is working opposite schedules and parenting a dynamic toddler), we haven't done too terribly much to prepare for you yet. I had a lot of fun buying some clothes for you at a consignment sale two weeks ago. Well, as much fun as I could have while shopping with a distracted toddler, but as I frantically grabbed cute clothes off the racks and tried to keep your sister from crawling under and behind the clothes or away from me, I kept marveling at how small everything was and imagined how cute it would look on you. I scored big, and we've already been getting presents and hand-me-downs from friends that make your pending arrival seem very real. We had a LOT of clothes for your sister, and I don't think boy clothing will be quite as rampant, but you'll definitely be well dressed.

I've started trying to wrap up a few bigger projects and straighten things up around the condo before you arrive, but I'm keeping my list pretty short. Truthfully, time and energy aren't in great supply. And in the grand scheme of things, most of my "want to get dones" or "would like to prepares" aren't important. I am excited to have a newborn in the house again ... well, maybe excited isn't the right word, because I'm a little anxious about the whole labor thing again as well as the lack of sleep, constant feeding and other fun that could be thrown in there. But I'm eager. I'm eager to hear the little grunts, see the little smiles, burrito the little limbs and finally meet you.

I said to your dad last night: "Do you realize we'll have to go through teething again?" These revelations kind of pop up in my mind at random times, but we're looking forward to you so, so much. I already feel like the time is passing quickly, and I have no doubt that it will go even faster when you arrive. I feel like it was decades ago that your sister wasn't talking and running around everything. It is even hard to remember her in the crib, and we just got her out of there about three months ago. I just know that we're going to have to soak you up - you won't be inflicted with the high anxiety of a new mom, although I have to warn you (and you probably already know), I am an anxious person by nature. But I don't think I'll freak out about every little thing like I did with Elle. I've already been more relaxed about this pregnancy in general - not that it's old hat, but at least I've been around the block once now. And in regard to bringing you home and taking care of you, I know from experience that this too shall pass and that you won't be ruined forever because we chose to do something this way or that way. (Do I know how things will go when you and Elle share a room or how she'll react to having a little brother? Not exactly. But again, I'm not as worried about it about I would have been three years ago.)

You seem to have tripled in size over night. I remember just a few weeks ago when I could feel you on whatever side I was lying on at night. You'd be there solidly, like you were too tired to fight gravity and just wanted to settle in and get cozy. If I rolled over, you'd shift sides with no fanfare. Now, though, no matter how I am positioned, you are EVERYWHERE. If I roll over, you wake up and start a 15-minute routine of resettling yourself. If I try to curl up at all, I feel kicks and punches and movements of protest, so I give in to the "requests" to give you as much room as possible - I even often have to stand at work because it's just not comfortable to sit. You stretch across my entire belly. While I remember your sister as more of a roller, you are a jabber and a slammer. I don't get the crazy ripples of movement from you that I did from her, but I get sharp limbs jabbing out and pronounced thuds inside my belly. Every movement is strong and quick. Today you seemed to slam repeatedly in to my left side and then just hung out there, near my belly button. I felt a little uncomfortable and lopsided, but you were content to stay there, despite Elle's command to "Simmer down, Wesley!" (I always ask her to tell you to be nice to me when you're doing WWE moves in my belly.) It often feels like you're trying to claw your way out of my stomach, and instead of lazy rolls you do flips, which can be rather painful. But I try to treasure each gasp-inducing movement, because all too soon you'll be out of my belly, and I'll never get this time back.

I have a feeling you'll come at least a few days early, and while I'm counting down the weeks of this pregnancy so we can meet you and start our life as a family of four, I'm extremely aware of how fast the last quarter of your gestation is going to go. With your sister, we had several ultrasounds in my last trimester, and at this point, I'm not sure if we'll get to "see you" again before you're born. I was also preoccupied during my entire pregnancy with wondering when she'd arrive, what my labor would be like, etc. I know that each pregnancy/delivery/baby is different, but I feel like our previous experience gives us a little bit of insight in to how things might go this time, and that brings me some comfort. I still have lots of questions - about how big you'll be, what you'll look like, what you're personality will be like - but for the next 2+ months, I'm going to try and enjoy this time with you safe inside, pummeling me on a daily basis. I love feeling your hiccups, proudly thinking to myself that you're practicing your breathing.

We're all on the verge of beginning this new chapter of life, and while I can't wait for it to begin, the time until then is going to be a weird kind of crazy, too. Your sister loves to kiss my belly and asks about you all the time. Your dad seems to think your kicks are a sign that you're ready for the NFL. (I fear how strong you're going to be in another 8-9 weeks - be nice, please!) Don't come out too soon, but know that we're all extremely excited to meet you!

Love,
Mommy

Dear Baby Bean

Dear Baby Bean,

Today I got to hear your heartbeat for the first time. It was fast (faster than I remember Elle's being) and strong. And like your sister, you gave a little kick to let the doctor know you weren't down with having the doppler all up in your space.

You've been growing for 13 weeks now, but over the course of the last two weeks, I've started to feel like I'm getting to "know" you. I know, I know - there's plenty of time for that, but there are several things that I've deduced about you.

From almost the beginning, I have been strongly convinced that you are a boy. Today, after I scheduled our "big ultrasound" for next month, I realized that if we actually find out that you are a girl (and believe me, I will be overjoyed either way), I will be shock. It may take me some time to wrap my head around that one. Over the last two years, I had played out either scenario - Elle with a little sister, a bestest buddy to grow up with and
fight withshare clothes and secrets with, or Elle with a younger brother, a close friend to share adventures and giggles with — together, you'd get in all kinds of fun trouble. I've gone back and forth, because really, I see no advantage or downfall to either. I love you either way, and I know you and your big sister will have a special bond. I am super excited about it, as I am close to my siblings and can't imagine life without any of them.

But anyway, I think you are a boy. I also think you are big and strong. I felt you for the first time at 12 weeks, two days. While I'm excited to feel movement so early, I'm already a little terrified to think of how big and strong you will be by July.

I think you are headstrong. (Really, this is a no-brainer considering how stubborn your mom and dad are — you come from a long line of stubborn people.) You made your presence known early on. I have definitely had to step back and give in to the symptoms of this pregnancy, whereas with Elle I think I just pushed through and somehow ... well, managed. There is no managing with you - I rest for us when needed, I eat for us when needed, and I take deep breaths for us when needed. I feel like my nausea, fatigue, cravings and aversions have been very straight-forward — there's no messing around with you. I'm functional or I'm on the couch. I feel awful or I'm OK. I sleep well or I don't sleep. And if I don't eat every 2-3 hours, my stomach is rocked with insane pain that lasts for another day and ensures that I will not be stupid enough to miss another meal or snack. (Enough with the stomach pain, OK, kid?)

During my pregnancy with Elle, I felt like my cravings were frequent, specific and all over the place. I had to have lemon yogurt one day or else. I made myself a cake one night because Daddy wouldn't go buy me any (he's so, so mean!). I craved protein and went through a period where I needed to have red meat as much as possible. It was weird. With you, I want Panera's tomato and mozzarella panini or I don't. Sweets don't interest me nearly as much. Extremely sour foods don't do anything for me. If it's loaded with carbs, I definitely am interested, and if you're a banana with peanut butter on it, watch out. My only conclusion? You're beefing up, my little linebacker (or linebackerette).

I can't wait to find out more about you — as the symptoms subside and your movements become stronger and more frequent, I think you'll give us an even closer look at your personality. Your sister is sweet, energetic, smart, funny and dramatic. I imagine that you're much like her, but with this strong, fighting, independent kick that will add to the dynamic family dynamic we've got going on. I love imagining what kind of little person you might be, but I absolutely cannot wait to meet you and actually find out.

Love,
Mommy