Dear Davis: Month 1

Dear Davis,

Well, you're officially six weeks* (I started writing this one week ago!), and your birthday was on June 11, so this is a little late for a one-month post. I'm sorry, but the days are flying by.

Just like Fraser, you were induced, and we thought you'd come on the 12th, but there was a baby bonanza at the hospital, and they called and moved up your induction. We went to church the morning of your induction, and on the way out we ran into the head pastor who gave us a nice blessing for your safe arrival. And we had the same hospital room as we had when Fraser was born. We thought these were great omens heading into your birth.

Everything was moving along so fast, and then all of a sudden it wasn't. The lovely doctor (who had a fun name, but not as fun as Dr. Batman who delivered Fraser) thought something seemed a bit off and did another ultrasound, which showed us you were sunny-side up. You were just stalling, I think. Who wouldn't want to stay all warm and cozy inside? Once the nurses had me lie on a peanut ball, you turned, and you decided it was time right that second. The nurses and doctors weren't prepared at all for me to say "I think the baby is coming," but they radioed for backup, and had me do these slow-down pushes, and after just a few big pushes, you flew right out. I knew you were a boy before they even turned you toward me.

We had no idea what we were going to name you. We had a few names, and Davis was on the list, but at the last minute I had cold feet. Your dad and I Googled names for about three hours in the delivery room. We spent quite a few hours after your birth trying to decide just who you were. You're Davis Norman, of course. Norman was Taylor's papa, and a very good man I'm told. And since your arrival, you've been such a mellow guy, that I know you have more of your dad's side of the family in you than mine. You see, your big sister, Fraser, is a FIRECRACKER! We've never ever used the term "mellow" to describe her, even when she was bitty. So, thank you, Davis, for being the perfect complement to Fraser.

You've had great nights since the hospital, especially the night one nurse told me I wouldn't get a lot of rest because you'd probably be up all night wanting to eat. On the contrary, that was the most restful night ever--I think you woke up once? Your days are restful when your sister isn't in your face, and you quickly learned to like the carseat and the stroller. We're on the go a lot, so I'm happy you like to move. We've been on a couple hikes and a couple day trips already, and you've been a champ for all. I'm sure you've known since you were in my belly that we like to be outside, exploring, and seeing new sights. We might even get a camping trip in before the summer ends. I can already tell you're up for anything.

This last month and change has been wonderful, challenging, and perfect. It's like you've been here all along. Thanks for making me a mama all over again, and thank you for bringing more joy to our house than we thought possible. In all honesty, I was really scared to meet you. I didn't know I could possibly love another baby the way I love Fraser. Moms kept telling me your heart just expands, and now I know that's completely true. But I think my heart did much more than expand. I think it exploded and began again as a heart that knows nothing but the two beats of my two babies right along the beat of my own.

I love you, Davis. I can't wait to see what you bring to the world, you peaceful little soul.

Sincerely,
Mom

*Must write your birth story before I forget the details!

Letters to Fraser: 1.5 YEARS!

Dear Fraser,

I thought I'd be writing this on your 18-month birthday, but here we are just passing your 19th month on Earth.

If I had to describe you at this juncture in life, I'd probably lead with...

You.Are.A.Wild.Woman.

Words cannot describe how much joy, love, fun, and insanity you've brought to your dad and me. You  keep us laughing, and you keep us running. There's no rest for the weary or those who are on Fraser duty. You march to the beat of your own very loud drum. So many of my hopes and fears are actualizing as we continue to progress into this mother-daughter relationship.

For example, you not only fell down the wooden stairs on the back deck leaving you with a bruise on your forehead and one on your eyebrow, but you somehow tripped and fell and had a bleeding cut on your other eyebrow, all of this after you poured an entire bottle of bubbles over your head. Just an average Sunday in the backyard for you, my dear.

You are as independent as they come, rarely looking my way when you dart across a playground or into the woods or even into a dark room. You don't seem to be scared of anything, except you get a little shy when something very exciting is about to happen, like right before the train passes our house and the conductor looks to wave back at you. You get a bit of stage fright now and then, in the oddest of moments.

Life is about to change in a very big way for all of us. Your baby brother or sister is just moments away from joining our family. It delights me to think of you as a big sister, but it also has me terrified because you are the center of my world right now, and I can't imagine life without you as my only sidekick. I know people say your heart expands...the bonds of siblings are incredible, etc., but this is my current fear.

And the world is a crazy and sad place right now. I know you will always fill it with the brightest light you can. You already have a "can do" spirit, pointing to yourself with both your thumbs saying, "Shay-Shaw," which is how you say your own name. You want to wash your own hands, open all the doors, go up and down the stairs unassisted, clip into your carseat, walk the dog, get the dog his dinner, ensure you have ice in your water cup at all times (this is a real fun stalling technique right now), and last night you even tried to cart both of your little table chairs out to the back deck for dinner. You are a real riot.

There are a few things that turn any of your moods around instantly, the first being kids. You love saying "kids," which is kind of lispy right now and sounds more like "tids." You like seeing kids, you LOVE hearing kids play or scream in the grocery store, and you're just so curious what other kids are doing. Today I took you to a clothing store and didn't have you in a stroller (which was a mom fail to the tenth degree!), and you saw a girl who was probably about four picking out clothes and putting them into a cart. You wanted to do that, too, and started yanking every item of clothing off the hangers. You're a copycat and a parrot, and your imagination is incredible at this stage.

The doctor says you are advanced in your language. Since I've never had a baby before you, I didn't know that all kids your age aren't as verbal. You try so hard to say a lot of words, and you have a handful of songs you demand us to play or sing so you can join in. You LOVE leading prayer at night and offer your friendly hands-folded "pay-r" reminder if we forget to pray the minute we sit down to dinner. You also like to give "peace" at church and your new thing is the holy water and blessing yourself. All of these things make me laugh and make me proud.

Your love of the outdoors and of animals continues to grow. And after two live hockey and basketball games, you became obsessed with these sports. Don't tell too many people, but our TV was on quite a bit during March Madness, and I think that's where you really picked up your "shoops" (hoops) habit. On the night of the final when your dad was still working, I was getting your room ready for bed, and I stopped hearing the pitter-patter of your toddler feet running back and forth across the house. So, I walked out into the living room and saw you with your two favorite stuffed animals and your blanket sitting on the couch, clapping and watching the game. Then you said, "Mama," and pointed to the spot next to you on the couch. That was a memory I wish I had recorded, but maybe writing it down will help me never forget.

I'm just so thankful you're in our lives. You bring a lot of joy to strangers because, for the most part, you're a pretty happy little lady. I can still take you to the store and on walks as long as we have lots of snacks, and new environments don't intimidate you. We made it through tax season just the two of us, and I think I'll look back and cherish that time. We'd have Friday night dates at Whole Foods where you got to eat all your favorite things at once and people-watch all the other kids and families eating dinner, too, and it was probably during this time you picked up your fondness of "peet-zah."

And just a few weeks ago, we moved just a stone's throw from our "old" house so you could have a big backyard to explore. We have grand plans for lots of adventures here, and we think it will be a wonderful home for our family to grow. I thought I'd feel worse moving out of the house in which we brought you home from the hospital, the place where we made so many memories as a family of three, but the old saying are true that home is where your heart is, and as long as I'm with you and Dad, I'll be happy forever.

Fraser, I'm so nervous and scared to be a mom to anyone but you. All I know is your big, bold self. Thank you for being a ball of energy, especially at this point in my pregnancy, when I can't hardly bend over and when some days are a little too physically demanding for me. I know I can do anything because I have you, and I want to be able to show you that you can do anything, too.

I know I've left so much out. There are so many things that make you you and so many "isms" that have us laughing at night after we put you to sleep. My words aren't as eloquent as I'd like right now, and I feel like I am barely stringing sentences together at this point. I'm blaming the baby. Please know how proud we are of you and how we see such extraordinary things in your future. Thank you for giving me the best gift in life of motherhood. I know I've made a lot of mistakes and learned so much from you. You are the biggest blessing. I will cherish this year-and-a-half together forever.

Love,
Mom

Letters to Fraser: TWELVE months!

Dear Fraser,

I'm so late in writing this post because I'm in denial. How was it one whole year ago when you joined our family? You barreled into the world, and you've been quite a firecracker since.

It took so many weeks before I actually wanted to put you down. I just wanted to hold you and savor every minute, knowing nothing would ever be like that again. I still sort of feel that way. We haven't been apart for more than eight hours, and even that is the longest, I think. I just love having you in my life. In our lives. You are our ray of sunshine in the morning (still the very early morning--you don't seem to want to sleep in...ever), and you're our comedy show every night around bath time.

You're still not walking yet, but your army crawl is a distant memory, and you can waddle around with your little cart. You like to hang out on the windowsill in the dining area, and of course get into every drawer, dog bowl, and stack of books or laundry sitting out.

I had a nice long letter written, and half of it disappeared, and well, that's the story of my life it seems.

Highlights from months 11-12 included:
- Your standing up and motoring around from electrical outlet to electrical outlet, always looking for some sort of mischief.
- Our trip to Sunriver with our good friends the McFarlings. You absolutely loved watching and "playing" with Monroe, who is 2.5.
- A quick hike on the Pacific Crest Trail on our way home from Bend.
- Your first trip to the zoo with your friend Reagan and expert zoo-goer, Audrey.
- Linfield football homecoming...go Cats!
- More playing in the dirt and feeding the chickens at Luscher Farm.
- Your first real sickness and ear infection (not a highlight, but I thought I'd note it here).
- A cousin playdate on your birthday and a birthday brunch with all of your family to celebrate the big 1.

Shortly after your birthday, we headed east to the Wallowa mountains and to mom's alma mater, WSU, for homecoming. You were a champ the whole way, a great road warrior, hiker, and trip companion.

Fraser Mary, you are our little babbling ball of joy. Thank you for the best year of our lives. Just as they say, it went by in a blink, and I am anxious to see how our lives continue to change for the better because of you.

Love,
Mom

Letters to Fraser: Eleven months

Dear Fraser,

Here we are at 11 months, and I am feeling all the feels, as they say.

I remember this time last year so vividly. The anticipation of your arrival. The changing seasons. Saying goodbye to work and hello to the unknown.

I'm so emotional thinking back to each previous month, wondering how we got there, and now we are here, less than a month from your big first birthday.

You're just getting over every possible ailment, which seemed to come all at once. In the last week, you had a fever, your first cough and cold, and more teeth trying to emerge. You poor little bug. Most of the days you were still your jolly self, and of course I still took you to roll around in the dirt up at the farm and also to a gym class. You're such a little busy body, and you loved every minute of the play, but I should have known better.

You're not walking yet, but your army crawl has advanced to a "big girl crawl" as we call it, but you're a heck of a lot faster doing that army crawl. And why are you so attracted to electrical outlets and cords and pretty much everything that should be put away? Yesterday I caught you on the fireplace hearth just jingling around the fireplace tools. Totally safe, right?

You are a chatty little lady, and you're very opinionated. I think we might be out of the woods on your screaming phase (fingers crossed). Boy was that embarrassing...we'd just be meandering through a shop and you'd blurt out this high-pitched scream. No thank you, Fraser.

Highlights from this last month include (but are not limited to!):

• Not that you'll remember it, but--you got to see the solar eclipse (a once in a lifetime opportunity, my dear, and quite amazing!).
• You continued your Thursday night daddy-and-me urban hike ritual.
• We got your hair in your first ponytail, and we realized how much you look like your Auntie Whitney when she was a baby. 
• Mealtime became somewhat of a rollercoaster as the things you like turned to the things you threw off your high chair tray first. You still continue to wolf down scrambled eggs and a whole banana every morning (thank goodness!). 
• We went camping again at the coast (I probably won't forget this trip, as you tried out your new carseat and proceeded to have your first diarrhea accident forcing a side-of-the-road wipe down...but we recovered, and we had a great time with your friend Reagan and family).
• We tried to soak up every last minute of sunshine and summer...not that we won't be out in full force in the rain, but still. 
• You really, really loved Garden Babies at the farm in our area. 
• You continue to really, really love the musical lap time program at the library, though you are far from wanting to sit nicely in my lap anymore! :-/
• You gave up your pacifier after our Sunriver trip. 
• You grew out of your baby bathtub. 
• You might as well be packing up for college. 
• Oh, and another thing I won't forget is when I took you to my first moms group of the season, and you wouldn't stay in the childcare. An hour of crying, and they decided to call me back to comfort you. I'm sorry, baby. I think you were teething at the time. You're not usually such a clinger. 
• And on a terribly sad note, we lost your great-grandma, Ebie. I can't even begin to write about this right now, as Ebie was a one-of-a-kind lady, and she loved you dearly. You're a lucky baby that you got to meet three of your great-grandmas. I have no doubt Ebie will be your angel in heaven, along with great-grandma Mary (your middle namesake). And I'm not saying that you'll for sure play sports, but if you do, Ebie will be your biggest fan and know all of your stats up there in heaven. 

We're having a harvest themed first birthday for you...selfishly because I love pumpkins and fall decorations. And everyone keeps asking me what you're going to be for Halloween. I guess putting you in six different costumes when you were less than three weeks old somehow implies that I'm going to go big every year? It's still TBD at this point.

I love you so much, Fraser. SO so much. I still can't believe you're ours.

Love,
Mom

Letters to Fraser: Ten months

Dear Fraser,

Yesterday I felt a crispness in the morning air--autumn is on the horizon. And just as summer always does, it crept it, then stepped on the gas, and zoomed right on by. We're in our last few weeks of summertime bliss. Seasons of change.

You're just two months away from turning one whole year old. How did we get here?

Now that you're on the move, every day is challenging. Some days I joke how much easier it would be to go off to work and have someone else follow you around, ensuring you don't stick your fingers in the non-baby-proofed electrical sockets, splash your hands in the dog's water bowl, and pick up every stale crumb off the hastily mopped kitchen floor. And let's not even talk about your obsession with cords!

But every day you amaze me, and I feel so fortunate I can be with you every morning, afternoon, and evening. I still can't believe you're my baby.

You continue to light up the room, the grocery store, the swimming pool, or just about anywhere I take you. I love that you smile almost always on command, and there have been only three times when the sight of someone unfamiliar has caused tears. Your dad continues to say just how social you are. I love it.

You've been quite the adventure baby. You've already been hiking several times, and being in the great outdoors continues to be our calming mechanism for you. We took you on your first camping trip in our "vacation home," as Dad likes to call it--a great big tent above his truck. You slept better in that thing than you do at home, which is quite incredible because you are a good sleeper. You're still just waking up earlier than I'd like.

You're eating most things we put in front of you, with banana, eggs, watermelon, and corn on the cob being your personal favorites. Let's talk about this corn for a minute. I had been cutting the kernels off the cob when I wondered what would happen if I gave you the whole cob. One hour and 15 minutes later, you were still as content as could be in your high chair, gnawing on that cob. I realized it was the best teether on the planet and have been using this time-sucking distraction device sparingly.

We've spent a lot of time with family this past month, which has been great for all of us. Uncle Joe, Auntie Sara, and your cousin Audrey welcomed sweet baby Claire last month. She's just one of the girls now, and I have a feeling watching you three little ladies grow up here in Portland will be very entertaining. Your cousins from California came up twice, with our big Benz family gathering taking place over Nana B's birthday weekend (more on that another time). And we found our your auntie Whitney is going to have a baby of her own next year--your first cousin on Dad's side!

I continue to think you probably like the same things most other babies your age do, but I now know your love of water might be a bit more excessive than the norm. You and I have been taking swim lessons together the last couple weeks, and you have no fear. You've been dunked in our lake here in town, Elk Lake, and the Deschutes River, proving the temperature holds no bearing on your enjoyment. One point of particular hilarity is how mellow you are in a floating device. Whether it's Phyllis the flamingo floatie or a raft built for two, the moment you're on your own just bobbing along in the water, you're 100% content.

Your smile and your look sure have changed over the last month, with the addition of your four teeth, especially those top two buck teeth with the big ol' gap in the middle. You're babbling a lot, saying "dee-dee" every time we see a dog on a walk, "nana" when it's banana time in the morning (and a bonus for both your grandmas who go by "Nana"), and "shut," when you close the closet door. Oh and of course you say "dada" even though I don't think you realize what you're saying.

I wish I could slow down time, but it's true that each new phase brings such excitement. You're definitely not my little baby anymore. We see these glimpses of who you are and what you'll become. Strangers continue to note how you're "never not moving," and your legs are just always flailing around. Neighbors continue to note how vocal you are--including the volume of your screams. Once you get a bit older we're going to have to work on that "indoor voice." And our family knows just how special you are, a real firecracker already. Never would I use the word "mellow" to describe you (unless you're in a floating device as noted above). Of course we're biased, but you have a big personality already, little lady.

Thanks for being a great sleeper and only waking up when something is really bothering you (ahem, teeth). And thanks for giving mom a break with really good naps from time to time (note: certainly not always). And a really big thank you for liking the stroller and not minding the car seat too much. I hear horror stories all the time, and since running and walking are my salvation, I really appreciate that you don't mind the rides. Thanks for enjoying the kitchen basting brush and spatula more than real toys, and I'd appreciate it if you stopped your fascination with touching the oven sometime soon.

This post must come to a close because it's 6:07, and you're awake. Hey, at least we're getting past the 5 o'clock hour, right?!

I love you very much, Fraser Mary. You are one of a kind.

Love,
Mom