Dear Miss Gabby...

Dear Miss Gabriela Marie,

Well, my love, you had it your way. Eight days ago, you decided it was finally your time. We talked you out of it for six weeks, but in the end, you made your grand entrance into the world on your own time and in your own way. It's sort of your thing - living life your own way. Some say it is important to always remember that your reputation precedes you. In your case, this is exactly how I want it to stay. Because you're a fighter. And a mover. And a total shaker. And the doctors and nurses are in awe of you. For the record, they will have to get in line. So, while I wish I could have convinced you to stay inside a little longer, just know you have me mesmerized. I am so madly and deeply in love with every inch of who you are, and so very, very, very grateful that you are here, safe and sound. So here begins our first of many heart-to-hearts. Brace yourself, sweet baby girl, because this mama has some stuff to say.

The last seven weeks have been what some would call a journey. I remember vividly screaming at the Universe when I thought we were going to lose you, "What exactly am I supposed to learn here?" Apparently a lot. Like a lot-a lot. About perspective. And strength. And humanity. And faith. And about all the places God lives. This is a lot of lessons to be taught by a 2 pound, 9 ounce, 15 inch being. But it is exactly what you have done for me, and I want you to know I listened. I totally listened.

Like how in normal life, we don't often see the value of a single day. We take lots of days for granted. But when you're forced to lie in bed, day after day, because someone's life depends on it, well let me tell you, every single day matters. Even if you claim it doesn't to you, it does to someone else. It doesn't mean the day will be a good one or a fun one or an easy one. But it still matters. It's about perspective, my love. And God knows you gave me a grand ol' dose of just that.

I also didn't know how strong I am. Or how strong your daddy is. And your brothers. And you. I just didn't know that as a unit, we had this tenacity, this ability to pick ourselves up from the very bottom of our bootstraps and persevere. Your brothers have amazed me with how well they adjusted to having me in bed. Your daddy has rocked it, day in and day out, like it's 1999. And I did it. I really did it. I didn't know I could do it. And then you came, and in the last eight days, you have put our combined strength to shame. Your doctor says you act like a 38-week-old baby, not a 28-week-old one. Your nurses tell me you are perfection. You're a pistol, Gabby Marie, and I love it. I'm obsessed with it. Damn, we're strong. You taught us that.

And then there's humanity. And faith. And the places God lives. Perhaps they are all one in the same. Perhaps they manifest themselves differently for different people and different times. Nonetheless, this little journey has brought out the best in people, from their actions to their words. People are so, so good, so much of the time, and these people - this village we have somehow created for ourselves - are waiting for you to come home. They are the very best people I know. And they have never left me. Or you. Not once. Between them and you, my faith has grown - in people and in God. Maybe that's one in the same, too, but we will try and leave the super heavy stuff for a little later. The funny thing is, lots of people right now are talking about this famous TV guy who said some really not-so-nice stuff about groups of people as if they weren't human. And somehow, some people think God lives in his words. I think some people should spend some time in the NICU. Maybe then they will see where God really lives. Just sayin', my girl. Just sayin'. I guess it's about perspective again, huh? Life often comes full circle, sweet pea. It's funny that way.

I love you, Gabby Marie, more than words can express. You are the very best parts of all of us, and I am in awe of you. Of all of you. You have forever changed us, in every way for the better, and are truly a miracle. May you never forget your worth, your strength, and your ability to move mountains. Welcome to the world, sweet baby girl. Welcome.You complete us. 

Love,

Your Mama



One Month

 

It just hit me. It's been one month today. We have made it one whole month, and I am not sure I have ever felt more accomplished in my whole life.

 

That's a big statement coming from someone who has spent this one whole month lying in bed. I used to fantasize about lying in bed. I dreamed of it. I yearned for it. Now I would do anything to get out of this damn thing.

 

But we have made it one whole month, baby girl and I, and I couldn't be more humbled, more grateful, more in awe of people's humanity, and some days, perhaps more grumpy. But whatever.

 

And oh, the lessons I have learned. Lessons I will never, ever forget.

 

Like lessons about my people - you know, those people that make up that village we so often refer to in poetry - are the best people I know. My people have fed us for the last month. My people have called and texted and written cards and dropped by just to say hi. They have listened to me cry and reminded me to breathe. Sometimes my people bring Dilly Bars and books and blankets and brownies and hot chocolates and burgers and movies, and they sit in my bed beside me to shoot the shit. You have no idea how much shooting the shit in bed means to someone who can't get out of bed. My people have watched my kids and picked up my kids and taken my kids to get a Christmas tree and taken my kids to make Christmas ornaments and most importantly of all, loved my kids like I do. This is, after all, how you ultimately know who your real people are.

 

Like lessons about my family. It's funny how in times of crisis, you want your mom. I want my mom. And so she comes, with People magazines and newspapers and an unrelenting commitment to my boys to literally smother them in love. She is the giver of pep talks and the carrier of hope, and she loves me so deeply and so dearly that I just want her. I want my mom. You know how it goes. And my mother-in-law. I want her too. She brings me knitting projects and sandwiches and takes my cat to get groomed. Yes, groomed. I love this woman. And my father-in-law who finishes yard projects and runs to Costco and hauls hospital beds into my living room - yeah, I love him too. And my brother and sister and their families who come into town to run my children ragged and who call me all the time just to remind me they are there or to complain about the sound of Rachel Ray's voice - God, I love them so much.

 

Oh, and the lessons about marriage and about knowing you found the right one. You know those articles people pass around about  "The 10 Keys to a Successful Marriage"? The ones that say stupid crap like, "Never pee in front of each other" and "Do it all the time"? Yeah, they're stupid. So freaking stupid. And wrong. Because sometimes the shit hits the fan, and sometimes where and when you pee and how many times you manage to do it in a month mean SHIT. Yep, that's right. I said it. Because this husband of mine is a freaking warrior. He has taken the reigns with grace and strength and through exhaustion and stress, still manages to look me in the eye and say, "Love, I may have the busy part, but you have the hard part. Don't ever forget it." I love this man. I don't know what I did to deserve him. But I know I found the right one.

 

Perhaps the biggest lesson of all is the one about parenting. When you're in the trenches, it often feels like one failure after another. Why are they beating the crap out of each other with spatulas? You are seriously throwing yourself on the floor because I won't let you wear shorts? In 32 degree weather? Dude, is there a reason you are standing on top of your chest of drawers? When you are banished to the sidelines, you are forced to observe. And when you observe, you see the truth. The truth is, they are amazing and strong and resilient and kind. They say "thank you" and "please" and "I'll be gentle, mama." They still beat the crap out of each other with spatulas, but you know, they also have each other's backs in a way that is fierce and committed and real. They are brothers, through and through, and I am so very proud of who they are and who they are becoming. To say I love them feels inadequate. I love them so much it hurts.

 

And let's not forget the lessons that only weeks and weeks of bed rest can offer. Like 'Downton Abbey' might be the best all-time show ever made, and I don't understand why Matthew can't just come lay in bed with me. I just need a day. One day. Did you know there are people who spend $30,000 on wedding dresses? And that you could potentially fix an entire week of meals in one day? Did you know that online Christmas shopping is soooooooo much better than going to the stores? I love it. With a passion.

 

We have made it a month. A month of lessons and most importantly, of life.

 

Just three more to go.