Letter to Poncho – 8 Weeks Old & You’ll Never Remember STS-135

Dear Poncho,

I’m sitting here with you in your Winnie the Pooh chair, watching Nasa TV. Today is a huge day…not only are you 8 weeks old, but this is the final launch for the space shuttle Atlantis, and the end of an era. And you’ll never remember it. You’ll see videos on YouTube later in life, but I want to be able to tell you that you watched it, although I know you’ll never remember. It actually gets me pretty emotional, because your family has been a part of the space program in so many ways. Your grandpa actually worked for the space program when the Air Force was involved, and he was in charge of the external tanks. Someday I’ll show you photos of what your grandpa used to do and he can tell you all about it. It’s so cool that he got to be a part of history. When mommy was very little, we lived in California and the space program was out there for a while. I got to meet several astronauts and was even held by crew members of Challenger as an infant. It still haunts me to watch that footage. And now your daddy even plays his part in supporting the space program…that comes to an end very soon.

As we sit here and watch the countdown, I’m in tears. And I don’t know why. Mostly, I’m grateful that I got to witness this final launch and that you have family who has contributed to and supported this amazing program. I hope that someday soon we’ll be going back into space, and if you want to be an astronaut, I’ll try and be ok with that.

3…2…1…lift-off. There she goes. (I still find it astounding and even funny that the space shuttle can get into orbit faster than I can get to the grocery store.) As I held you, your eyes were glued to the tv…but I know you’ll never remember. So, here’s a picture of you…watching history can be  made. Godspeed, Atlantis.

Letter to Poncho-If You’re Anything Like Him

Dear Poncho,

First of all, thank you for not making an early appearance. As your Great Aunt Cricket said, “she wants to keep the upcoming baby shower as is and not have a meet-and-greet quite yet.” I can’t imagine the contractions were fun for you, but I’m glad you’re ok.

It feels like over the past weeks, I’ve either gotten to know or created a personality for you. Part of it might be interpretations of your actions, like when you kicked dad in the face when he was laying on my belly talking to you, or when you kicked the Doppler when dad was using it to hear your heartbeat, or when you wouldn’t hold still at the hospital so the nurse could find your heartbeat. (Then you moved right next to it, hit it and moved away again.) The other part probably comes from knowing your dad so well. His nuances; like his smart-ass tendencies, competitive spirit, hard work ethic, genuine concern when I’m hurting and ability to provide perspective despite my emotional fragility lately. I guess it’s easy to automatically associate your actions with your father’s; having a boy seems to suggest you will automatically be like your father. And that’s not a bad thing at all.

It’s taken me a while to learn about myself, and while I may have some good qualities (I think I have a pretty good taste in music), but I’m just not sure they translate well. I’m hoping my tomboy-ish history will help, but I feel I’m going to be learning more from you than you will from me. Your dad already has so many exciting things he wants to share with you, teach you, places to take you and honestly, he just wants to meet you so very badly. He keeps talking about how much he’s looking forward to the upcoming time off (building up the time has almost gotten the better of him a few times) and how he’ll get to spend so much time with you. You can’t possibly imagine how much he already loves you. And once he gets to meet you, you’ll have him wrapped around your little fingers.

I’m one of the lucky ones, Poncho. And so are you. I can’t imagine anyone being a better father and husband than your dad. That’s why I want you to be like him. He and I have been together almost 9 years and he has taught me so much about myself and he’s helped me become someone I like and am even occasionally proud of. That’s why I know you’ll be in great hands. Despite the stories I’ve heard…stories of jumping mini-bikes, breaking windows with baseballs, throwing of the glass ball Christmas ornaments, smashing big wheels into cabinets, playing baseball on broken bones, taking a corner too fast and blowing out 2 tires; and even my first hand accounts of things like jumping on a bed and smashing a light fixture with his head, punching himself in the face when trying to change brake pads, dead-lifting the rear-end of his truck, and even a traffic ticket or two…he’s going to be better equipped of what I’m almost certain will be an incomparable roller-coaster ride you will be taking us on. Not only because he’s already done, tried to get away with and forgotten more than you will ever be able to come up with, but because he’ll be able to look back and remember what he was (or possibly wasn’t) thinking when he did the very same thing. And hopefully, when he can’t explain it to me, he’ll understand exactly where you are, pick you up, dust you off and tell you how many hours of yard work you just earned.

We can’t wait to meet you.

Letter to Poncho-Quiet Time

Good morning Poncho,

Things have been very crazy lately, I know. I’m certainly not making it easy for you, and in turn you are letting me know that I need to slow down. Well, that is the plan today. So much has been going on lately and rather than be honest and tell people I’m very tired and don’t want to, I try and do it all. By all accounts, I’ve had an “unremarkable” pregnancy, for  which I am thankful. But for some reason, pride has made be believe that because everything has gone pretty well, I shouldn’t make statements about being tired or hurting, but the truth is I am exhausted. It’s not about me taking “me” time before you get here, it’s about getting everything ready for your arrival. I know this past weekend was rough on you, and I’m mostly to blame for that. However, I am very excited that we were able to get the baby blanket that your dad was brought home from the hospital in. That means the most to me.

After all the self-inflicted craziness lately, I’ve decided I want to stay home and relax with you. Your mid-afternoon krav maga rounds may make taking a nap a little more difficult, but I do enjoy spending that time with you. I need to not be around people right now (with exception of your father, of course.) I’ve been getting rather irritated with everything from Facebook in general, to the constant and relentless reminders that “we won’t be sleeping once you get here”. These comments almost sound like threats to our intelligence, suggesting we interpret our having a house cat is sufficient training for bringing another life into the world. I’ve heard everything from everyone who obviously “knows better” and has decided to provide unsolicited pearls of wisdom like; being told that my doctor doesn’t know anything, the cat will try and kill you, I have to go to 42 weeks, I can’t have a C-section, what people will call you regardless of what we name you, what we HAVE to do in terms of EVERYTHING,  and the most common statement lately is “we won’t sleep for 18 years”. I’m always trying to see the humor in everyday life, but hearing this over and over has become rather obnoxious. What I could really use now is support, a good laugh and life going as as normal. That’s why I’m really looking forward to going to the auto show. It’s something I thoroughly enjoy doing because I get to spend time with family, enjoy a favorite automotive past-time and I’ll get to have my picture taken in a Ferrari or Aston Martin. It’ll be even better because I’ll be pregnant, with you, in a Ferrari. And after having fun at the auto show, we plan on spending the rest of the weekend barricaded inside, watching movies and having some much needed quiet time.

But why wait until this weekend to start quiet time. I deactivated my Facebook account to not only remove temptation to spend time on there, but to remove the negativity that it seems to be breeding lately. I’m going to get season 4 of Mad Men and spend the entire day doing laundry and watching one of my favorite shows with you. I’m going to ignore calls and text messages, turn off the computer and remember what it feels like to be okay enjoying the company of myself, my thoughts and your jabs and kicks.

Thank you Poncho, for being there with a kick or punch to remind me of what really matters right now. Thank you for giving me the courage to say no, to step back and be ok with upsetting people, who don’t even have a place to be upset anyway. Thank you for the perspective of what really matters right now, and what will matter in the near and distant future. And thank you for making me feel like I can do this. If I may ask only one small favor; could you please give my sciatic nerve a break. Nevermind…that must be your way of telling me to relax. I love you, Poncho.