Ode to the Second Child
IN KEEPING WITH MY WRITER-LY TENDENCIES TO TRANSFORM EMOTIONAL EXPERIENCES INTO SOMETHING I CAN RELATE TO....here it is. Separation Anxiety Part 2:
Dear Numero Dos,
Within a few days of declaring myself "ready" for another baby, I had you.
The curse/blessing of the overly fertile perhaps.
Regardless, you were welcomed...and your strength of character proved itself over and over (and over) again.
You were "Luke" or "Grace" no matter what.
You made a few false entrances, a few embarrassing "Ok, you are not in labor, please go home now's" here in the Deuce.
Your brother was not so sure about you, or your purpose in his life, but he declared himself prepared for big-brotherhood.
And a few days after Christmas 1994, you joined us, in the wee hours of the morning, which was a bit of a hint as to your night-owl tendencies.
It was a rocky start for us both. But we got through it all. And you got me through more BS than I care to admit, calming when it was uncalmable, soothing when it was unsoothable, from Ann Arbor, to Japan, to Kansas, to Turkey to England and now, circling back to Your Home Town--A-squared. We asked so much of you--go to Japanese school! Get used to Kansas! Go to International School in Turkey while Mom has a Nervous Breakdown Kinda! Now, wear a Uniform and Get Over it In England! You did. All of it.
And today, eighteen and a shade over one half years later, I strapped a mattress to the top of your beater Volvo, loaded your and my cars with your stuff and enough groceries to feed you for a month, and moved you. Just a few miles to the east of us, but to what feels like such a major step away, you might as well be in a far away state.
You are so much like me, it terrifies and delights me in equal measure. And here, is my ultimate admiration comment: Someday, I'd like to write your story.
Your quiet strength I admire. Your amazing resilience in the face of physical difficulty I treasure. Your ability to disarm familiar tensions I covet. Your quiet confidence in yourself I envy, yet it makes me cheer you on even more. Your stubbornness frustrates the shit out of me and yet your need to be apart, separate, and alone I want for myself.
Grace, you exemplify your name in every way, for so many.
You are my hero. Although... that whole "Hey! We're having a party tonight and you're invited...you too (little sister, helping her lug crap up the steps to the apartment) and You Too! (to mom, sweaty, sans makeup and aggravated)" thing....I am totally jealous of and hope that the really cute one who kept trying to give us beers might prove a satisfactory diversion to you in the coming days and months.
Go forth and be who you are meant to be.
Prove him wrong. He'll be happy you did it.
Mom
Dear Numero Dos,
Within a few days of declaring myself "ready" for another baby, I had you.
The curse/blessing of the overly fertile perhaps.
Regardless, you were welcomed...and your strength of character proved itself over and over (and over) again.
You were "Luke" or "Grace" no matter what.
You made a few false entrances, a few embarrassing "Ok, you are not in labor, please go home now's" here in the Deuce.
Your brother was not so sure about you, or your purpose in his life, but he declared himself prepared for big-brotherhood.
And a few days after Christmas 1994, you joined us, in the wee hours of the morning, which was a bit of a hint as to your night-owl tendencies.
It was a rocky start for us both. But we got through it all. And you got me through more BS than I care to admit, calming when it was uncalmable, soothing when it was unsoothable, from Ann Arbor, to Japan, to Kansas, to Turkey to England and now, circling back to Your Home Town--A-squared. We asked so much of you--go to Japanese school! Get used to Kansas! Go to International School in Turkey while Mom has a Nervous Breakdown Kinda! Now, wear a Uniform and Get Over it In England! You did. All of it. 
And today, eighteen and a shade over one half years later, I strapped a mattress to the top of your beater Volvo, loaded your and my cars with your stuff and enough groceries to feed you for a month, and moved you. Just a few miles to the east of us, but to what feels like such a major step away, you might as well be in a far away state.
You are so much like me, it terrifies and delights me in equal measure. And here, is my ultimate admiration comment: Someday, I'd like to write your story.Your quiet strength I admire. Your amazing resilience in the face of physical difficulty I treasure. Your ability to disarm familiar tensions I covet. Your quiet confidence in yourself I envy, yet it makes me cheer you on even more. Your stubbornness frustrates the shit out of me and yet your need to be apart, separate, and alone I want for myself.
Grace, you exemplify your name in every way, for so many.
You are my hero. Although... that whole "Hey! We're having a party tonight and you're invited...you too (little sister, helping her lug crap up the steps to the apartment) and You Too! (to mom, sweaty, sans makeup and aggravated)" thing....I am totally jealous of and hope that the really cute one who kept trying to give us beers might prove a satisfactory diversion to you in the coming days and months.
Go forth and be who you are meant to be.Prove him wrong. He'll be happy you did it.
Mom
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