Robin is one of my favorite writers and her blog, Farewell, Stranger is one I never miss. Robin’s writing is raw and thoughtful and eloquent. I have devoured every word of her brave journey through postpartum depression and especially love her posts about her three-year-old son, Connor, who could be the Canadian version of Lucas.
I had the pleasure of rooming with Robin the first night of BlogHer ’11 and we stayed up until after 2:00 AM talking. To say that I hope we get another opportunity to do that again someday would be an understatement.
I am so pleased to have Robin here today with a letter to her baby girl. Confused? Keep reading….
Dear Baby Girl,
For a few months now Connor has been talking about his baby sister.
“I’m going to have a baby sister,” he said one day.
“When my baby sister comes, I’m going to teach her how to paint,” he informed me a couple of weeks ago. He was wrist deep in watercolor paint at the time, and the image of the two of you creating art together nearly made me cry (which surely would have smeared my own amateur work of art).
One day I asked him when his baby sister was coming.
“On Friday,” he said, his voice confident and sure.
I laughed of course, because he seems to be under the impression we merely have to order a baby and go to the hospital to pick it up. (It’s Grandma’s fault, because when he asked her recently where babies come from she took the admittedly smart approach and told him they grow in the mommy’s tummy and then you go to the hospital to get them.)
I wish it were that easy. If we could have you with us on Friday, I’d leave for the hospital right now and wait in happy anticipation.
That’s not how it works, sadly, but I’m intrigued that your three-year-old brother is so sure you’re coming to live with us.
Nine years ago, when we bought our first house and it was being built, your dad and I stood on the ground outside with nothing but the skeleton of a house surrounding us and thought about what it would be like to live there. It was getting dark – the sun was going down in the hills to the east, and I could see footprints in the dirt beneath us from the workers who had been there that day.
Suddenly I had an image in my mind, clear as a photograph, of our family. Four of us – your dad and I, a boy and a girl. I dismissed it as a silly dream or wishful thinking and didn’t even mention it to your dad at the time. It was too much like picturing the “perfect” family.
I actually always imagined I’d have a girl first, so when your brother came along I was surprised. And that led me to wonder whether maybe my quickly-dismissed vision from that long ago day wasn’t in fact worth paying attention to.
Your dad and I had never really talked to Connor about having another baby. He just started talking about it on his own, and has mentioned his “little sister” to Grandma as well. None of his good friends have little sisters – they’re all little brothers – so I really don’t know where he got the idea.
Maybe he knows something we don’t. I sure hope so, because our family isn’t complete yet and I’d be very happy if you’d come and join us.
Love,
Mama
P.S. If you turn out to be a boy, that’s okay too.
