Letter #2 To My Second Child

Dear Zag,

You are about 22 weeks old in utero right now which means you have developed eyes that sense light, a brain that is churning up thoughts, and ears that can hear my voice.  The reason we call you “Zag” is because when Mom was pregnant with your older brother Max we nicknamed him “Ziggy The Zygote” or “Zig” for short.  It seemed appropriate to affectionately call you “Zag” so you are immediately part of a team in life.  “Zig and Zag.”  We do have a real name picked out for you…but we want to meet you face-to-face before we give it to you.  You are about 11 inches long and weigh about a pound.  You are what we call a “bruiser.”  You are a big fella!  Your mother is toting a gorgeous belly and we are often amazed by how fast you’ve grown and how intense your kicks and movements are.  A few nights back I was cuddling your mother while we slept and you kicked me awake.  You are strong!

When Max reached this age in Mommy’s belly I began singing to him.  When Max was born I sang to him in the delivery room so he knew who I was and that everything was going to be okay.  Now I’m going to start singing to you.  Max is currently obsessed with “Chocolate Jesus” by Tom Waits though I suspect it’s because he thinks it is hilarious when I hum and tap my feet.  The other song he loves (rightly so) is “Blue Shadows on The Trail” from the movie “The Three Amigos.”  It is what I sang to him in the delivery room.  You seem to like it too.  When I first sang it to you, you kicked back in what I assume was approval.  I’m going to start tucking you in at night with this song for it is our song.  You, me, Mommy, and Max.  I’m also going to sing some songs that are just for you.  One of the blessings (and curses) in life of having an older sibling is hand-me-downs (trust me I know) so its nice to have some things that are just yours.

What are you like?  What will you be good at?  Who do you look like?  What color is your hair?  I don’t want to compare you to your brother…I just want to meet you and get to know you.  4 more months!  So much uncertainty, but here are the things you can be certain of: Daddy loves you and Mommy loves you…and its the kind of love that cannot be broken.  I will love you with every breath I take in life and I will teach you the skills necessary to be happy in this world.  I like my work and have fun with my day-to-day activities…but my happiness comes from you, your brother, and Mommy.  I learned this from my Mom, my Dad, and my sister.  My sister was my protector as a child and is now one of my best friends.  My parents were my providers as a child and now are two of my best friends.  Mommy is one of my best friends.  Max is the only best friend I have who poops his pants every day.  You haven’t even been born yet and you have best friends waiting for you.

Daddy loves to be tackled.  I am the best at snuggling.  I make goofy faces, invent weird games, and can make people laugh in any situation.  I am far from perfect and have a grocery list of imperfections.  I am impatient.  I’m terrible at doing laundry.  I sometimes talk too much, can be abrasive, and can act like a child when I should act like an adult.  We’re all imperfect…Mommy is just less imperfect than most of us.  You never have to be perfect, you just have to be willing to accept who you are and those around you.  I’m waiting for you.  Max and I are playing tackle football in the family room and he needs you to jump on me to help bring me down.  Mommy is painting in her studio and she needs you to draw her a picture of your own.  Luna (the cat) is napping on the chair in the dinning room and wants you to pet her.  This weekend we’ll rake the leaves in the yard and take turns jumping into the pile!  Your family is waiting for you.

Rest up.  Grow strong.  Kick, kick, kick when you hear my voice.  I love you.

-Dada

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One thought on “Letter #2 To My Second Child

  1. Well, who wouldn’t want to hurry up and join this family! sounds kinda imperfectly perfect!!!!!

    Can I jump in the leaves this weekend, too?!
    Mom

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