Yes, yes, I know I've done this before, but it's the only thing I keep thinking about. Besides, this blog seems to have been missing something (content?), so here we go.
If present me had written past me a letter a week ago, it might have looked like this.
Dear Boo:
Rest up. You're going to need it. I know that your darling daughter has finally resumed her normal (read: LENGTHY) sleeping patterns after the seventh circle of teething hell, but it's all about to change. Again.
While you are basking in the post-Thanksgiving joy at your parents' house, don't feel bad for not leaping out of bed at the little one's first squawk around 7:30. Don't feel guilty about sleeping in until -- GASP -- 8:30 on the weekends. Cherish her silence and ability to soothe herself.
You will start noticing her cold symptoms around the same time you plan on going back to Boise. In the middle of the week, as you frantically line up babysitters, align crazy work schedules, try getting your car out of the shop and pray for good roads in the midst of Blizzard Fest 2010, the wee one will have a runny nose.
"Sure," you will think, "A runny nose is nothing to worry about. I plan to head home to reunite with the hubby tomorrow, anyway." But no! You won't! Another blizzard will come to Boise! This is when you will be thankful for your tendency to overpack. Instead of braving the roads home, you will cry all the way out to your gracious sister-in-law's house the next morning before an unexpected day of work in the eastern side of the state. You will spend the rest of the day offering prayers of gratitude that you and baby are still alive.
Another day after that, your car will have a shiny new transmission and the roads will seem safe enough to travel.
Don't fall into a false sense of security when you arrive home. The baby may seem healthy. You might have a productive morning. You might even think you will be able to make sense of the huge mess that is your apartment. You may even have the hubris to assume that decorating is in the realm of possibility.
Then the baby will wake at night, and she will cry. No, no. She will scream. For hours she will scream. And you will be helpless to fix it. She won't have the classic signs of an ear infection. She won't have a fever. She won't tug on her ears. But something inside you will just know.
Don't be afraid to take her to the doctor on a Saturday. Don't listen to the snotty nurse who makes comments like, "Oh really? Not tugging on her ears? Hmm..." or "Wow, she doesn't feel warm AT ALL." When the doctor takes one look and says, "Oh, that's bad. That's definitely infected." And then finds infection in the other ear, you will try not to internally gloat to said nurse over your poor little one's ill health.
You really should take the time to rest and nurse your own cold. You should watch the Little Mermaid with the baby. You shouldn't be afraid to "spoil" the child by letting her sleep in your bed.
I hate to tell you this, but you will be exhausted. And you will have plenty of moments where you will feel like a deficient wife and mother. You won't get your Christmas gifts up. Both girls for whom you were making those great baby shower gifts will give birth this week, and you will feel like a failure for not having finished those projects. You will feel overwhelmed by a million other To-Dos that are pushed aside. You will spend much time acknowledging that you are a flat-out terrible single parent.
But you will learn that you can sing a furious baby to sleep. You will learn that you can survive on very little sleep. You will actually make it to the grocery store. You will retain the gratitude you felt during the Thanksgiving holiday through it all. You will travel safely on very treacherous roads. You will find, once again, that you and Jesse are a dynamic duo. And most importantly, my friend, you will survive. And I think (I can't tell you for sure just yet), you will be even stronger for it all.
But for now, you will just want to rest up. Best of luck,
Boo
