A little someone has finally decided to grace us with his presence. We welcomed Van into the world on Monday, 9lbs. 8oz. and 21 inches long. When I’m ready to put the experience into words, I will be sure to share. 

Dear Van, these are a few tidbits I wrote to you while you still remained the stubborn little booger in my belly.

-I committed myself to adding two weeks on to whatever due date the doctor gave me after I was eleven days late, and then medically induced, with your brother. I don’t know why I didn’t follow this advice. I guess in some form or another I knew I’d need the support and encouragement if I were to go past my due date. It’s been difficult fielding the text messages, phone calls, emails, and having to deal with other peoples anxieties surrounding when the heck you’re going to join us, on top of my own. There were a couple of overcast and humid days this past week where we actually got rain (yes, rain in southern California in July) and I fantasized about you coming on either of those days. You did not. Then came your Grandpa Niles birthday, another great day to be born. Again, you did not come. And yes, it’s true, I even visited the magic eight ball website who initially said the answer was hazy and to ask again, but then confirmed that you will be born over the weekend. I didn’t hold my breath, but the little bit of hope it gave was comforting. Please know your mom is an absolute lunatic when she’s pregnant. But only when I go past my due date. Before that, I’m just a nice woman carrying around a basketball.

-I started this baby blog for you and your brother when I found out I was pregnant with you.

-Your Papa has been able to work from home on the days I needed extra help. This has been incredibly helpful as of late. He’s anxious for your arrival too, but not nearly as anxious as I am. This is because he thinks I’m going to die birthing you at home.

-The Olympics start this week. I hope to be sitting on the sofa breastfeeding you while watching the gymnastics. Please add this to your mental “to-do” list.

-Your great grandma Helen turned 95 last month. She predicted that you’d come on your due date, the 15th, which was a Sunday. Her prediction was based on the fact that your Papa would be home and she thought you’d be kind enough to wait for the family to be together. You are not kind and she is a wee bit nutty.

-You made me eat horrible. If you are protein deficient, it’s because I gave the Greek yogurt to your brother and ate a cookie instead. It’s your fault, I eat exactly what you tell me I need.

-You kick and wiggle often. It’s a feeling I remember missing greatly after I birthed your brother. The middle-of-the-night dance parties, however, will not be entirely missed.

-I did no prenatal yoga with you. I went weekly with your brother. If I can’t do the splits again post-birth, I blame you. But, then again, which son really wants to see their mom do the splits?

-Hooper understands my belly is called a “baby”. Sometimes he refers to his own belly as a baby. He often gives my belly hugs and sometimes kisses. I’m more than eager to see your relationship with him develop over the years. Please be a better eater than him.

-There is a lot you will learn along the way, but here’s a few tips to get you started: Our family loves sarcasm, so don’t be a pussy about things. Take it and dish it like a man. Sarah is really loving and sweet, but get out of her way when she’s in romping mode. The neighbor is always out sweeping leaves, that’s just what she does. If you grow up with regrets of not having a pool to play in during the 100+ degree days of summer, remember that we wanted one too. We just couldn’t afford it. So save your own pennies. One day you can invite us over for a pool party. When you’re older and wondering what your Papa and I did after you boys went to sleep, the answer is we ate dessert. Yummy yummy desserts we were too selfish to share with you. And lastly, there’s lots of people that love you. Really, really love you. I’m one of them and I can’t fathom anyone loving you more.

So eager for your arrival,

Mama