Words cannot even begin to express the joy and happiness that Mommy and Daddy felt the day you arrived into our lives and every day thereafter. (Though “look at all that hair” was among the initial sentiments.) You see, Emmy, it took us over 40 years (early 40s that is) to find each other and then our “miracle baby” came along a short time later to make our family complete (for now). Needless to say, you have been an absolutely perfect baby in every way. For one, you gave Mommy almost no problems during her pregnancy; throughout the entire term, she only suffered occasional tiredness and one bout of morning sickness in the midst of a yoga class (those down dogs can be so challenging).
Your timing was impeccable as you accommodated everyone’s schedule by coming on September 27. Daddy had been fighting a cold (or probably just nerves) and you waited until his meds kicked in. Mommy had some last minute work to finish and you held off with those contractions until that final memo was almost completely dictated. (Hopefully, her assistant didn’t include the words “wow, that was a big one” when she typed the letter.) Your due date was originally scheduled for October 2 which happened to coincide with Yom Kippur, the holiest day in the Jewish religion. Your poor Mamaw (Brounes) was torn between spending that day in synagogue or in the hospital waiting room. You made the decision easy for her by arriving five days early. I was even able to fast on Yom Kippur as well (though watching you eat made me hungry about 5:00 pm…Actually, I don’t really like milk.). Speaking of religion, everyone told us witnessing childbirth (or participating, in Mom’s case) renews one’s belief in God. Wiser words have never been spoken. (Mommy added to that sentiment by saying that an epidural also renews one’s faith…Having seen her moods before and after, I’d echo that thought as well.)
FRIENDS AND FAMILY
Emmy, you must never doubt how truly loved you are. Aunt Tootie and Mamaw visit virtually every day and fight over who gets to hold you, swaddle you, and change your diaper (no argument from us on that one). Grandma Libby (Hachenburg) talks to Mommy and Mamaw to catch up on developments and has already made plans to visit with the whole Florida clan in a few weeks. Your Aunt Candy sent you a beautiful “girly” comforter and pillow that she has been saving for you for the past 20 years. You have received many other great gifts from so many family and friends: monogrammed blankets (what a novel idea), beautiful outfits (mostly pink, of course), a number of “my very first” Teddy Bears, and some great Hershey (or rather HERESHEIS) chocolate bars with all of your “vital signs” and other specifics on the wrapper. Of particular note, your “Uncle” Richard Rosenberg (not really your uncle) found you this awesome book on the Internet called “How Emily Blair Got Her Fabulous Hair.” Who knew that someone had written a book about you 10 years ago? (And, of course, you do have some fabulous hair.)
As with all babies, everyone who meets you debates who you look like. Because of your full head of dark hair, many people think you look exactly like me. (Thankfully, you don’t have that dark hair on your back, chest, and inside your ears.) Others think your nose and mouth are the spitting image of Mommy as a baby. And, of course, those jokesters in the bunch make cracks about the milkman. (Luckily, our milkman is a 75 year old woman.)
A FEW OF YOUR FAVORITE THINGS
You’ve been exposed to much culture in your short life and we are trying to identify your likes and dislikes. You seem to enjoy watching the Bachelor with Mommy on Monday nights (though Daddy doesn’t think those girls are very good role models). Of course, I needed equal time so you had the pleasure of taking in your first Texas/OU football game from the luxury of our couch. (Next year, you can partake in your first corn dog and funnel cake from the State Fair.) Your Longhorn attire was just the team spirit UT needed as the Horns are now 1-0 against OU in the Emmy era. (I have to credit “Uncle” Rock for that one.) We also watch an occasional SportsCenter, though Mommy doesn’t think Terrell Owens is much of a role model either. (Payback for my Bachelor comment, no doubt.)
While you enjoy all the nursery rhymes and other traditional baby jingles, you seem to really get a bigger kick out of the personal songs that we have made up for you. Each morning we start with “Open Your Eyes Baby Emmy” and “How Emmy Starts Her Day.” Throughout the day, we are constantly singing my personal favorite, “The Emmy Bear” song. I can hardly imagine what my buddies must be thinking now as they try to picture their very “macho” friend engaged in such activities. I am not embarrassed in the least because I suspect that each one of them participated in similar songs for their newborn kids as well. (And, if you didn’t, shame on you.)
I’m sure you have already learned that I am the “Nervous Nellie” of the family and Mommy stays so calm and cool about everything. I am particularly worried about that swing you enjoy so much (because I assembled it myself and there seemed to be numerous extra parts that were not needed). When you are sleeping in the bassinet next to our bed, I am constantly waking up to look at you, make sure you are breathing, and count your “10 and 10” (fingers and toes).
Mainly, I am worried that I will fall asleep one night, that alarm will go off the next morning, and you will already be six months old and crawling all over the house. (When do we need to start baby-proofing?) Then I will hit the snooze a few times and you will be ready for your first day in nursery school. (How much is Beth Yeshurun tuition these days?) After another quick doze, I will wake up to find you practicing for your Bat Mitzvah. (How early do we send out those “save the dates” for 2019?) I will roll over one more time and you will be of dating age and a pack of teenage boys will be hanging around the house. (Will I still be as intimidating as I am now when I am 60 years old?) Finally, I will turn off the alarm for good and we will be filling out those college applications (Ivy League, of course, with UT and Tulane as the safety schools).
I know all of these milestones are coming and can’t wait to share each and every one of them with you and Mommy. It’s just, I am not ready for things to change that quickly. We both waited so long for you and want to relish every moment together. (Why, just a few days ago your umbilical cord fell off and I almost didn’t recognize you.) For now, I want to feel your little hand grasp my finger for comfort, have you lay your head on my shoulder when you are tired, and smile at me when I do something silly (though everyone tells me your smiles are really just gas at this point). I want to stare at you when you fall asleep in the crib and come to your rescue at the first signs of tears when you are ready to get up. I know that things will get challenging, sleep will be rare, and frustrations will set in. (Our friends with 2.3 kids warn us every day.) While our patience will undoubtedly wear thin occasionally, we will never forget that it remains a virtue. We welcome the challenges and look forward to each and every day with our little Emmy Bear. Just remember, Mommy and Daddy love you very much.