Wednesday, June 02, 2010
Your Mom, my Kitten, got to see you today at her appointment. You weigh almost six pounds now and just like your Grammy was in 1964, you are upside down.
A breech baby.
Your Great-Grandpa Ralph has always told me I came into this world bass-ackwards and I've had trouble ever since. I'll never say that to you, my sweet boy. Instead, I choose to think you're a tiny dynamo who already has his own way of doing things.
You make your own rules, Brady. I think that means we are going to get along famously, as that's exactly how I am.
The doctor says you are going to be delivered to us via C-Section. You are scheduled now to arrive on June 28th, 2010. That means I only have to wait four more Mondays to be able to see that precious, scrunched up face in person.
I'll be right outside the doors when your Mom & Dad bring you into the world, and depending upon how good my sucker punch is, I hope to be the first to pry you from their arms and kiss those round cheeks. Mommy will have a lot of recuperating to do, and Daddy will want time to care for her and to get to know you, so I am going to be there, in the background, taking care of all the things that need to be taken care of for them. Your little family needs sweet time to get to know each other, and Grammy is going to make sure you get it.
I'll cook and clean and wait on your parents as if they were staying at the Ritz. They'll never need to so much as lift a finger to get themselves something to drink. But, my darling baby, when they need a nap, Grammy is going to creep into their room and scoop you up so that I can rock you and tell you stories and make you promises. I want to breath you in and I want you and I to have our own little worship service. After all, you'll have just left the Father's arms and I am convinced that holding you will be as close as I ever get to hugging God - on this side of Heaven anyway.
I want you to know that your picture came to me today, just when I needed it most. In an instant, I went from "woe is me" to crying tears of pure joy. I think that's a sign. I predict you'll always have that affect on me, and on the others who love you.
I'll see you soon, Baby Brady. I love you. So very much.
(Am I a Grammy or a Grandma or a YaYa? I need help picking a Grandma name.)
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