What I’ll Tell You Someday

Dear Baby,

You’re still three and a half months away from us, we hope. You kick and squirm and your dad does the same when he feels you through my belly. Tiny little you and your movements make a grown man leap and scream. You already have such power. Before you nestled inside my uterus, we knew you would be immensely powerful–when you were just a dream or a hope or a maybe because of everything we did to get you here. You may only be the size of an eggplant but you have the strength to grab our hearts and souls already.

Someday when you’re older and can understand, I will tell you about the late winter and spring of 2020. I’ll tell you how people looked at this year as a chance to live out their “2020 Visions.” How it was a fresh start for many because something about those two zeroes made everyone feel a new, clean hope. I’ll tell you about no snow days (or just one fake one) and a warm winter that was still wrapped in wintry melancholy, somehow.

Then, I’ll tell you about how your daddy worked 80 hour weeks, all of the sudden. His phone would TING TING in the night and his fingers would clickety-clack out emails at all hours. How he planned and calculated and attempted to save lives in our state. And how suddenly his brand of germaphobia became the way of the whole land.

And conversely, I’ll tell you how you and me were confined to 807 with the occasional fresh air mixed in. How our whole world became gripped by a new fear, for ourselves, for humanity, and for you. I’ll tell you how we loved sleeping for 10 hours, going for distance walks with our family and friends, drinking a pregnancy-appropriate-amount of coffee from a ceramic mug, and taking the most thorough notes for my 8th graders. And I’ll tell you how I had to stop listening to the radio, in favor of the slowest music or a podcast about presidents or the history of soda, because I didn’t want us to hear and feel the weight of the world, particularly on your brand new ears. I’ll tell you how your sweet auntie planned a baby shower for you and how she and I sat together picking everything out for you. Then we had to move it to after you were born. And how even though the world looked relatively normal, it was upside down or sideways or inside out, or all of the above.

I will tell you how we tried to plan for you in the midst of this thing, not knowing what a hospital will look like when you’re ready to enter the world through one–how I tried to prepare myself to be alone for your birth because some new mommas around the country are doing just that. But then I’ll tell you how your great aunts helped me pick paints and a layout for your room. And how I had groceries delivered so you and I could keep drinking lemonade every night.

Most of all, Baby, I will remind you over and over how you were my built-in beacon of light through the weirdest time our generations have ever known. How I rubbed your soccer-ball-sized casing for my own comfort, for yours, for ours, and how I hoped your arrival would be my bookend for this madness. And when I craved touch but your daddy wasn’t home, I had you.

I will tell you how before you were born, you offered so much comfort. But all of those stories are a few years away. So for now, stay squishy and squirmy and stay with me. We’re making a spring wreath today–I’ll need your help.



18 thoughts on “What I’ll Tell You Someday

  1. Thank you…I knew this would be a tear-jerker message about this sweet grandchild for whom we have so much love along with his/her cousin, Emma and new cousin, (?). So much to tell them!!
    Mom, Nonny

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Lovely. When you think about it, every baby is born in completely unique times, but yours might just take the cake! Love to you during this precious time.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Amandy!!! This was the best thing I have seen in months!! Thank you so much for sharing. I am so happy for your family. Stay safe-keep your tiny human safe and I can’t wait to meet your little one on the other side if we are not still social distancing!!!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. One of the lights in this trying time for me is that you have the time to write again!! I’ve missed it so much, just like missing you now! It was fun on our physical distancing walk last week, let’s do it again the next time Chas has a day off, or part of a day off like last time 😉

    I remember thinking of Chas the exact same way, wondering how our lives where going to change. I’m wondering about how our lives will change with a new little person to love and care for, and your little one has been my shining light through this stressful time too. Such a lucky baby to have you and Chas and the whole Doran/Eby clan full of love. Stay safe and healthy and know that you are missed,

    Grandma Cindy

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Amanda….
    Your baby will cherish not just your letter but also, through it, the amazing woman that this hard fought for, much loved, fabulous human will be lucky enough to call Momma. And, it goes without saying that having such an amazing Momma can only mean that Daddy is amazing as well. Jackpot!!!!!
    We all will get through these crazy times.
    We will all be stronger.
    Your Baby has a head start because of you and Chas.
    Prayers, love and calm….

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Thank you for giving me a few minutes of love and hope for the future. At times now I feel the weight of waiting for this curse to end. After reading this I changed my thoughts. I realized looking forward to July 7 should NOT be weighing me down. It should now buoy my spirits because I choose to believe that by July 7 your healthy, happy and screaming, peeing, pooping, smiling, giggling, wiggling Cletus the Fetus will be joining the world as the curse is increasingly defeated. I may not be able to hold Clete on July 7 but have already made room in my heart and stocked laughter and joy there for he/she and me to enjoy. LOL, D

    Liked by 1 person

  7. I started crying after the first sentence. This reminds me of all the letters and emails I’ve written to Bodhi, Felix, and Marlowe from while in the womb to present. You are an amazing mother and I look forward to hugging you, sharing a beer with Chas, and kissing your baby’s cheeks. Love you Amanda.


  8. I started crying after the first sentence. This reminds me of all the letters and emails I’ve written to Bodhi, Felix, and Marlowe from while in the womb to present. You are an amazing mother and I look forward to hugging you, sharing a beer with Chas, and kissing your baby’s cheeks. Love you Amanda.

    Liked by 1 person

  9. I love you so much. This was so beautiful and so special for the babe to have someday. Another hard thing that you will get through. Love you and here for you,Chas, and Cletus always. Xoxo

    Liked by 1 person

  10. Everything that is made beautiful and fair and lovely is made for the eye of one who sees.


    Your baby will be blessed, safely wrapped in your arms. No force is greater than love.
    Love to the three of you,
    Aunt Di

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s