A letter to my (almost) middle child
To read when you start feeling lost. Is there any way at all to prevent middle child syndrome? Asking for a teeny, tiny little friend...
I fear you are going to get lost in the chaos of the next couple of years. And I remember feeling that way, though I was much older than you are now. And though I know it’s somewhat unavoidable, I am writing this to you now, while you’re my *only* favorite little girl, so you can know just how much, just how big, just how wide, just how deep, just how tender, my love is for you.
If somehow the tender throbs of my heart could make their way to you every time you reach for my hand— like a jolt—then you might know. If you could feel the anticipation that I feel every morning when I think about getting you out of your crib. I love how you say, “Hi Mom!” with your binkie hanging out of your little rosebud mouth, like a soggy cigarette, brushing your Albert Einstein hair out of your face with your tiny hand. How even though I love your big brother so much, that I love the time when it’s just you and me, because it really does feel like time with my best friend. How, the other day, you were watching Sleeping Beauty and asked me to come hold your hand, which meant, of course, that you wanted to dance. And then, another day, how when I asked if you were ready to go, you said: “MOM. First. I have. To DANCE.” How, a few weeks ago, I held you in the shower, and you laid on my shoulder-- on top of my belly, above your sister-- and we just stood there. I may have swayed a little, who knows. But neither one of us said a thing. It was as if even in your tiny little being, you knew it was a sacred kind of thing, being in that water together; not to be marred with anything even as beautiful as words. We were just still, ever so still, letting it drape over us. I remember in that moment feeling as if the water were christening us— Mother and First Daughter. I, too, am a first daughter, and Mimi is a first daughter. And there is a lot of significance there, as you do look so much like her. I think it can come with a lot of responsibility that you might not want at first, but you will learn that it is quite a special thing. I must have wept a little bit in those moments, because of the beauty of it all. I hadn’t held you skin-to-skin like that since you were a tiny baby, and so many of those days have been blurred by the difficulty that tended to define them. But I think in that moment, underneath that water, with your little head on my shoulder and your little, precious body wrapped all around me, we really were baptized somehow. I don’t know into what exactly. But that is what it felt like. One of my favorite books, Gilead, talks about the sacredness of water: “Water is the purest, clearest of liquids; in virtue of this its natural character it is the image of the spotless nature of the Divine Spirit. In short, water has a significance in itself, as water; it is on account of its natural quality that it is consecrated and selected as the vehicle of the Holy Spirit. So far there lies at the foundation of Baptism a beautiful, profound natural significance.” (This particular quote is the narrator of the book quoting a famous atheist. I feel that lends even more weight to the notion of water’s sacredness.) So, you see? It was a really sacred thing, after all.
… Sometimes you say to me, “You look so pretty, Mom!” You did this the other day, while I was in the shower. You have no idea how much that means to a pregnant woman! The word “pretty” definitely feels like a stretch, though. I feel more like Danny DeVito and the Trunchbull’s love-child. And yet—to hear those sweet little words made me think of how I used to look at my mama as a little girl, through such enamored eyes. (I still do.) And then it made sense.
I wasn’t the middle child, but I did feel lost or forgotten much of the time amidst my four younger siblings. Especially the babies. This isn’t an indictment on my parents, who were not only doing their best, but are each wonderful. I now know how demanding parenting is. I think that feeling lost amongst the cacophony of each child’s differing timbres is a natural occurrence. But, it still hurt, nonetheless. It was hard not to feel discarded or replaced each time a new little girl came. For whatever reason, it made me feel like I wasn’t doing my job as a daughter well enough. And it’s something that to this day I struggle with— not feeling that my worth is only determined by what I can contribute to my household, rather than simply being valuable because I am a human being with a beating heart. This, my sweet, precious Hazel, is why I am writing this to you. If, in the coming years, you ever feel lost or forgotten or undervalued, please don’t immure yourself in your room or your journal like I did. Please come to me (or Dad) and tell us you are feeling so. I promise you I will stop whatever I am doing, enfold you in my arms, and protest every loving word I can think of to try and steer you back into a path of loving light. If that seems too daunting, then read this. Read this letter. And remember.
Or, go outside and look at the little rosebush we planted for you— the one that your Mimi picked out with Clyde the day you were born. Or, though it won’t fit you anymore, look at the tiny little bracelet I bought you in New Mexico, one to match mine, so that we would have something to always keep us connected. Or, do what I did in some of those moments many years ago, and get down on your little knees, and ask your Heavenly Father to remind you how much you are loved. I can promise you that He will let you know, and He will do it in a way that will be tailored to how you need to hear it. Let me tell you about one time when I needed to know, and how I learned so much about how tenderly our Heavenly parents know us and love us. I was much, much older than you are now. I was kind of a grown-up, age-wise, but in almost every other sense I still had a lot of growing up to do. At this particular time in my life, I felt very lost, very lonely, very hopeless. I hadn’t said a prayer in months, because it began to seem futile to me. But one Sunday morning, out of desperation, I did what I am encouraging you to do in your far-off moments, the ones where you can’t feel yourself anywhere nearby— I got down on my knees and I offered the shortest prayer of my life. “Please Heavenly Father— I have to know you haven’t forgotten about me.” Wouldn’t you know that a mere one hour later, I had that prayer answered, when I was sitting in church and a song started playing and the words that were sung seemed to come straight from Heavenly Father to the achiest parts of my heart: “For a little while, have I forsaken thee, but in great mercies will I gather thee… And with mercy shall I take thee ‘neath my wings… Know my child, my kindness shall not depart from thee.” I was immediately overcome and knew that song was for me. Heavenly Father knows how much I love music, how susceptible to it I’ve always been. So He answered that prayer in the way that would be most meaningful to me, with some of the most tender words I have ever heard. I have never and will never forget it. Even before this experience, though, I felt the need to ask for Heavenly Father’s assurance that I was loved. I remember praying often in my teen years to feel that I was valued and cherished. And I received that assurance every time. It tethered me to Him, that petitioning and His constant assurance. I hope that you will learn to do the same, because that knowledge of His concern and care for me has carried me. When you are feeling unsure of yourself, or your capabilities, remind me to tell you about how determined I knew you would be before you even came to me— how it was you who made that decision! It is one of the most sacred and important experiences of my life. And I hope, that when you hear it, it gives you remembrance of who you were before you came Earthside— who you are, who your spirit is inside that beautiful little body.
I will do so many things wrong, being your mama. I already have and you’re only two. But I promise I will always be here for you. I will always yearn for closeness, and I will do whatever I can to be a safe resting place for you. I promise to tell you when I think you’re being wonderful, to redirect you as lovingly as I can when I think there might be a better path. It is my deepest wish as your mama to give you roots to keep you steadfast, as well as blooming boughs that reach as far as you wish them to go. You are named after a tree, after all.
There is something really special about being in the middle— because you are both the little sister AND the big sister. I know all about being the big sister and it is truly a gift. I didn’t always love it. In fact, I was just admitting not too long ago how, growing up, I actually didn’t like it at all. How it felt like it was too much. At least in the early stages of adolescence. But now, it is a role I cherish and I know was meant to be. I know you will be such a loving older sister to this little one beneath you. I have already seen you nurture those smaller than you and my heart throbs with the anticipation of seeing two little girls, connected forever through sisterhood. Again, with the trees— did you know that sometimes the roots of trees grow so closely together that they become intertwined? That there is a secret language that trees speak, sending nutrients to one another through these inosculated root systems? I hope that happens with you and your little sister. I cherish my little sisters with my whole soul. I know you will, too.
You were born into a family who breaks the first commandment daily by worshipping Bob Dylan. (We can talk about that later.) But, he wrote a song called Hazel. Here is my favorite part:
“Hazel, stardust in your eye
You're goin' somewhere and so am I
I'd give you the sky high above
Ooh, for a little touch of your love.”
This is my favorite part because I think it says so much about how you came to be and who are you are inside that little body. I said before, you were a determined little soul long before you were even born, and so I do believe that you will go wherever your little heart desires, because your will is so strong. And I really would give you the sky above, if I could.
It is so hard to choose just one favorite thing about you right now, as both your dad and I want to just eat you up at all times. But we are quite enamored with your little habit of getting up from your seat and going round the dinner table to give everyone hugs (“a little touch of your love”.) You have so much love in your little body. I hope you always receive as much love as you have to offer, that it comes back abundantly and wraps around you. Do you know that you simply MUST bedizen yourself with a princess frock the moment you wake up? We love that, too. We love how much you love to dance. The way people admire your preciousness wherever we go never gets old. We love how you say “Becauuuuuse…” and how you slant your lower lip to the side when you are trying to be silly. We love how you love every girly little thing there is. We really, really love how you never ever protest going to bed. And we love how much you and Clyde love each other. There really is so much I could say about how very much you are loved, not even loved— adored, valued, cherished, BELOVED. It is my deepest prayer that you learn to know this more deeply than you know anything else.
I looked into your stardust eyes the other night and for a moment I heard that voice from those few years ago, whispering to me that you were coming. I can’t believe you are here. And, at the same time, I can’t imagine you ever not being here. You have changed every dimension of my heart and all my reasons for everything. You have been my very best little friend these last two and a half years. They will be bookmarked on my being for all my days.
I am wishing us both the best of luck as we anticipate the arrival of your little sister. I know it will be both remarkably difficult AND wonderful, all at once. I can’t wait to see you become the big sister, knowing that no matter how big you get, you will always be a little sister, too. And know, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that your little sister is not a replacement for you, because you didn’t fill a void well enough. If anything, she is a chance to have one more round of the joy that you have brought into our lives.
Infinities of love, my sweetest girl.
Mama
little frivolities
It’s been awhile! Pregnancy has wiped me of all ambition. Minus the ambition to get rid of literally everything in my house that doesn’t pertain to keeping a newborn alive. Here are some things that have been keeping me company while rotting in my bed every night…
Word/s of the day: nascent, risible, roseate (I couldn’t pick just one.)
nascent - adj. beginning to develop (I’ve always loved this one.)
risible - adj. having the ability to laugh (It’s me, hi!)
roseate - adj. optimistic or idealistic; rose-colored (* hurriedly tapes together broken roseate glasses*)
For the tiny little birthday girl who already has everything. (That would be you, Hazel.)
This ceramic artist’s work has bewitched me, body and soul. There is not one piece I don’t want to hang all over my house, including the garage.
If I had a baby registry this sexy little number would be the first item on it. Also— are we serious with these tiny pants??
Pretty amazing I’ve been growing a baby strictly from See’s candy and this salad. The dressinggggggg.
Want to frame this beautiful limn (just learned that word today!) off of a Bob Dylan lyric who was riffing off of the Bible.
Shout-out to my sweet friend Michelle who was wearing theeeee cutest shorts the other day. If I had her legs (instead of the hobbit-y tree trunk ones I have now) I would wear them, too.
I am so excited thinking about the Waldorf birthday ring charms for each of my children’s birthdays this year. I’m thinking this one for Clyde (he learned how to ride a bike this year), this one for Hazel (fully committed to the princess life), and this one for Baby.
Currently listening to: this slow, slow burn. Or, slow, slow freeze? I guess? It's good, though!
And this: I'm sure you have heard of this guy unless you really do happen to be living under a rock… (which— I get it.) It’s making me very grateful my kids are young enough that I can hopefully delay the smart phone thing… Also, it’s been a good wake-up call for me that I’m pretty much addicted to my phone and need to recalibrate. I just read this article yesterday, though, addressing some other components of teenage depression rates that shouldn’t be overlooked. As with all things regarding parenting, there are so many pieces to the puzzle. Heaven help us!
Just finished this joyful little jaunt through Italy, per the book club I’m a part of. It’s not usually the genre I am drawn to, and despite being somewhat saccharine, I thoroughly enjoyed it. I think it’s because it reminded me so much of my own experience as an old-ish unmarried young woman, who ventured off to Europe for the first time and found so many hidden parts of herself there. A very easy read/listen if that’s what you need right now!
Also just finished Night by Elie Wiesel, which was the exact opposite kind of read. Elie was in his teens when, in 1944, he and his family were forced from their home in Transylvania to the Auschwitz concentration camp. No matter how many harrowing accounts of the Holocaust I read, I will continue to be stupefied that human beings could be capable of such atrocities to one another.
Just started The Dictionary of Lost Words and am loving it so far. It was a birthday gift from my mama, who knew I’d be hooked with a title like that!
VERY tempted by the ease of this cheesecake masquerading as loaf pan.
Will devour any of these lists that come my way; this one has a little something for everyone.
I can’t stop reading about the phenomenon of microchimerism— the presence of a baby’s cells within a mother’s DNA for up to decades after the baby is born. I actually learned about this years ago when I was experiencing pregnancy losses; it was such a comfort to me then. Now there was scientific evidence for that feeling of having your children with you always, even the ones who don’t make it Earthside. Bodies truly are such remarkable things. What a privilege it is to own one. Read more about these “cellular souvenirs” here and here. I seriously can’t get enough!
Still learning how to distinguish between a want and a need and a need.
… After a months’ long hiatus, this may be the last newsletter for awhile as we are expecting our newest little cherub in about three weeks! As always, thank you for reading. You have no idea how much your encouragement means to me.
xo