December 6, 2005

Dear Josh,

You are one month old today. Congratulations on making it. There were a few times there when I thought you wouldn't. As Anne Lamott says, "I have had some terrible visions lately, like of holding him by the ankle and whacking him against the wall, the way you "cure" an octopus on the dock". The fact that you're abso-freaking-lutely adorable, even when you're bright red and screaming your face off, is God's way of safeguarding you through these colicky episodes. As soon as you learn how to talk, you should thank him.

Yeah, and thank me, too, because I sit here all bloody day and let you pacify yourself on my nipples. At the very least, it keeps me from doing foolish things.

Also, I have to write emails & journal entries with one hand.

Sometimes, though, something comes along that restores your faith that just because things have always been the way they've always been doesn't mean they're always going to be that way, too. I received a package from my friends Joe and Nigel in Singapore. In it, there was a letter with a note to you:

"It won't always be easy or fun, but doing things we might not enjoy for the sake of the ones we love is what makes us men. You'll be one yourself someday. Be proud, stand tall, and take care of your mother."

I worry that I won't be able to help you become the kind of man you can be proud of. I worry that my fucked up neuroses is going to impede you from learning how to be proud, stand tall, and take care of the people you love. I worry that you won't learn how to be fiercely on your own side. I worry that you'll hurt the people who love you. I hope, somehow, despite all this worrying, I can give you enough to work with and pray that you'll be influenced by the kind of good men that can show you how to get where you need to go.

It's been a great, if exhausting, month, my little precious baby. Thank God for you.

Love,
Mama