Dear baby,
I just woke up to the rain and your sleeping dad's hand on my belly. Of course, once I was awake, I was also starving. I was enjoying our nightly bowl of cereal and reading this poem when you started jolting my ribcage again. So I read it out loud to you and now you've calmed down. Maybe in twenty years or so you'll understand the irony.
Water Lily
My whole life is mine, but whoever says so
will deprive me, for it is infinite.
The ripple of water, the shade of the sky
are mine; it is still the same, my life.
No desire opens me: I am full,
I never close myself with refusal -
in the rhythm of my daily soul
I do not desire - I am moved;
by being moved I exert my empire,
making the dreams of night real:
into my body at the bottom of the water
I attract the beyonds of mirrors...
-R.M. Rilke
The other evening I came home from class to a surprise from your dad - your crib was in the living room. It's still in the box because your grandparents are going to be here for Thanksgiving and there is just no room to set it up yet. Your birthday is drawing nearer and nearer and the excitement might kill me. Your dad knows that the only way to pacify me is to take me through a baby store. I'm sure he's sick of hearing me discuss nursery colors but he's an awfully good sport and keeps saying that you're grounded if you don't hurry up and come out soon. I'm pretty sure he's kidding. We love you.
Love,
mama
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