Dear Graham

My beloved son, Graham,

You lift my shirt and respond to my puzzled look with, “I want to talk to the new baby.” I can't ever argue with that reasoning; however, I do pull my shirt down and say that you have to talk through the shirt when you do it in the grocery store. You whisper sweetly to my extended belly so I can never hear your words, but you always end the conversations with a kiss. The new baby is so lucky to have a big brother like you.

With the new baby's arrival days away and so many changes inevitable, I remember all your wonderful moments that I hold just for you. All the things that you don't remember, but I will never forget. All of the beautiful words that came out of your mouth when I once prayed for you to talk. All of the times we spent alone together in the middle of the night. All of the places you went without any fuss. All of the brotherly love you shared with your older brother. All the things that will never change.

You don't know how we worried about you even before you were born. We were so scared when we were told you had a cyst on your spleen when I carried you in my belly. I was so scared during your delivery because it was taking so long because you turned out to be a big strapping boy at 9 pounds 9 ounces. I was even more scared about who would be responsible for you when I went back to work. The daycare we used for your older brother was closing about the same time that we had you. I had such nightmares about trusting people to watch you. I didn't even trust myself when it came to watching both you and your brother alone. I didn't know how to work the zone when I was trained for one on one.

You don't know how I took you everywhere with me. The day we were released from the hospital we went to the school to help my substitute teacher get a handle on plant sales. We went their almost once a week to see that the plants in the greenhouse weren't being murdered. When the weather got warm, we spent a lot of time in the school field making sure that the corn and soybeans were planted. Many community members referred to you as an honorary FFA member. I'm so grateful that you cooperated. You charmed strangers, which you are still able to do.

You don't know how I walked through Thomas Jefferson's home, Monticello, carrying you. You slept the whole time. You were swaddled in my arms while we road a hay rack in the rain to tour an east coast alternative farm. I made my "best woman" speech at your uncle's wedding with you sleeping in your car seat beside the table. You made me feel like such an accomplished parent when I could feed you wherever we went, which meant we became familiar with most family restrooms from here to Pennsylvania. 

You don't know how often I reminisce of the 2am feedings. At the time I didn't understand why you were still waking up at night when your brother was sleeping through the night at six weeks. That magic time when it was just us is so special to me. Maybe that's why you were waking up, so it would be just the two of us.

You don't know how I could look into your chubby baby face, and see those mischievous eyes reveal your next plot. I always found myself giggling with you when I couldn't resist kissing those cheeks.

You don't know how amazed I am that we created you. We created something so wonderfully magical and great. Everyday you render me speechless with your new ideas, stories, and accomplishments. You make me laugh with your exclamations like, “Hold onto your biscuits!” Whenever I turn a corner in our mini van.

You don't know that I watched you sleep, smelt your head, rubbed your chubby cheeks rosy, and kissed your little hands. I still smell your blankie that is your constant companion. The baby blanket that is ripped, stained, and smells like a baby that's been playing with a dirty dog. It reminds me that you are still my little boy. I loath to take it away.

You don't know how I catch glimpses of myself in you, which frightens and delights me. You may be a man child that has your daddy's size, but you have my stubborn streak. I love identifying your qualities because everyday you show me more. You are so sensitive and perceptive to others feelings. You make me want to cry when you tell me that I have made your day. I just had to feed you a homemade chocolate chip cookie and play Crazy 8s.

You don't know that I see all your love for your siblings. I love watching you grow up, and seeing that love evolve. You are your brothers best friend, and your sisters rock. I feel so lucky to have you as my child. I see that you bear the burden of being the middle child, but you hold that distinction proudly.

I know that your family will always be there for you, my beloved son, Graham.

Dear Nash

My darling son, Nash,

As I sit on the couch with you beside me snuggled into my arm, your little hand resting on my extended belly, I can't help but imagine the kind of big brother you will be. Your little hand presses harder as the new baby kicks it. The bond between oldest brother and new baby has been cemented.

With all the new changes that will arrive with the new baby, I wanted to tell you all the things that I will forever remember and hold dear. All the things that will not change because there will forever be a rose colored cloud around them.

One morning I heard stomping outside the front door, and I stopped picking up to listen. You were shaking yourself off before coming into the house. All the snow caked onto your boots, snow pants, coat, scarf, hat, and gloves was left outside. You came inside sweaty with a sniffling nose. My first thought was that nap time was going to be great for everyone. But when you unwrapped your scarf your radiant smile caught me. You couldn't wait to tell me that you shoveled the driveway by yourself. I was speechless, even more so when I looked outside. You had taken your little plastic shovel and had cleared the 2 inches of snow off the driveway. Your love to help, to do things that need to be done without being asked was driven home for me that day. My need to keep you little started warring with my need to have you be a big boy with chores.

The 12 weeks I took off from teaching to stay home with you after your birth was the best decision I could have made. We spent day after day just the two of us. I held you memorizing the lines of your nose and your little stubborn chin. We snuggled as I read western novels to you. Sometimes when I would look up from the book your dad would be there listening in. It was a peaceful, magical time that still held much uncertainty for me.

We read books about feeding, diapering, swaddling, baby's health, and even one about the proper way to shh. But you were our greatest test. We accomplished the cloth diapers. The first time I had my hands in the toilet I realized I could master the world for you. My grossometer doesn't exist anymore, whats a little poop or puke.

You were such a patient baby. We didn't know what we were doing, but you didn't get angry. I didn't know how to feed you, but you rarely fussed about it. You just had this undeniable trust in me, and it changed my whole world. Your sweetness enchanted us, and made us want to have more children.

You were chauffeured around in school vehicles meeting many different students, parents, families, and their livestock, which I'm forever thankful for your cooperation. You were held by my high school students; you were put face to face with pigs and cows; you rode a horse, and even played on the floor of the high school greenhouse, all for the sake of my career.

The nine months of constant sickness was little time at all in comparison to a life time of togetherness. It thrills me to see you be the leader of our small clan, your siblings. When you came out of the kitchen carrying a plate of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the afternoon snack, I was so proud. I was about ready to burst when you badgered your brother and sister into eating them with your reasons being that you did it all by yourself. You were meant to be our first born son.

I'm so lucky to be able to watch you grow up. Your every smile, every frown, every hug, every kiss, every story, every skip, I cherish.

I still watch you sleep and brush the hair from your forehead. I still pray to God everyday that He will protect you, especially your soft heart.

My greatest fear is that I'm not qualified for the job of being your mom. I'm afraid that I won't know if I've succeeded or failed until you are an adult.

Your family will always love and support you, my darling son, Nash.