Tuesday, June 16, 2009

To Self

Sometimes I write these notes to myself. This is a letter to me before giving birth to Morgan.

Dear Self,

I am writing to tell you a bit about motherhood. You are about to embark on the most amazing journey of your life. Those words may sound cliché, but you'll learn to embrace clichés because they often hold a certain element of truth. 

Plus they're easy and witty and you don't have the mental energy to make your own. 

You've struggled a great deal of your life with being patient. Motherhood will either make you or break you in this arena. I hope you choose the former. This morning, for example, I had reserved a babysitter for my daughter (yes, you're having a girl!) and had to set aside my plans in favor of a doctor visit. Seems my dear 5 year old has a bought of strep and it's very likely that she has shared it with me as well. The time this morning I planned (yes, you're starting to get organized!) and held onto for dear life as a sanity preserver (did I mention Dan is out of town?) you had to lay down. 

Plus Morgan was screaming. No way to ignore that now, is there? 

Your efforts to be healthy will be a bit harder to come by, but keep trying. You need your strength. Morgan's doctor suggested that we give her some Gator*ade for her sickness (the whole "pumping fluids" thing). The shelf was laden with drinks that were not named in flavors. More like colors. So just forget the whole natural thing and get whatever colors she wants. It's alright. 

In the past you have allocated a week to prepare the house and fridge for guests. It probably fell under the category of "entertaining". May I gently suggest laying down entertaining for the sake of its gracious sister, "hospitality"? The in-laws are coming today to visit a bit early (Thank you, God) and the time you had allocated to guest-prep has been rescheduled. Indefinitely. It's okay to go grocery shopping once they get here. And it's okay to look a little disheveled because, most likely, you feel disheveled. Just do me a favor and brush your teeth. It's the least you can do. And it may be the most you can do this particular day.

I know I'm probably painting a picture of fear in your heart, but I'm really happy. Life is about basics right now. And it's really good. With the second baby (another girl, yes) I've learned to choose what matters. Don't worry your little designer-heart... I still like a cute house and bought a darling mini-palm tree for the guest room the other day. But at the end of the day, it's the people in the house that matter, not the house itself. 

Enjoy the moments ahead of you. You are about to embark on a wonderful journey... of self.

Your friend with the future in mind,

Emily

3 comments:

mercy said...

"Thoughts on life and motherhood"
That's the name of your new book. Publish it Em. It will pay for college and brighten the days of many a woman.

mary said...

That is the truth. I love reading what you write, it brings me back to when I was in your shoes (or was that bare feet?). I loved that time, but that don't mean it was easy! But you remind me of the good and hard of it. It's a universal momma experience, but you get it in words. Publish!

Short Stop said...

Ems,

I can only imagine how much joy and encouragement this letter will bring to Morgan and Eve when they're in the throes of motherhood. The wisdom you share in this letter is all the more profound and moving because it is engulfed in compassion - as the best mothering advice almost always is.

May I gently suggest laying down entertaining for the sake of its gracious sister, "hospitality"?

This is my favorite part of this letter. Probably because it speaks so directly to me.

Thank you for sharing this. Love you, my dear friend.