My dearest Beau,
You are not even two days old and already you have wriggled your way deep into my heart. Quite a feat considering I haven’t even met you yet!! Born on January 7th, 2017, you are a lucky little guy. Although you were due on your sister’s second birthday, you were very thoughtful to not usurp her special day. 7 happens to be your mother and father’s lucky number, and, as you will soon see, your mother actually has it etched in her knee– not purposefully, but from a hockey move that not only cost her the game, but a nasty ACL surgery. Sorry to go into so much detail, Beau, but these are terms with which you will soon familiarize yourself, as you have two quite athletic parents.
Now that you know how much I love you, I can be honest. You have already disappointed me! Not because you aren’t as perfect and BEAU-tiful as your charming French name suggests, but because you did NOT wait for me!
You had the audacity to come into this world before I could make it to New York from St. Louis!! I’ve been present for the births of all 5 of my other grandchildren, and not being there for your mother was most upsetting for Papa and me. You see, all five of my births were so easy that my doctor had the attending nurses stand next to him with catcher’s mitts just in case HE missed. (Baseball is another sport with which you will very soon become familiar. )
This was not the case with your mother’s ordeal with Queen D two years ago in L.A. Her delivery was so fraught with complications that you would have thought she was delivering in medieval times–without so much as a midwife by her side. Not only is it a wonder that your sister was such a healthy baby, but it is a miracle that your mom is alive!!! Yes, it was THAT BAD! TMI, I know, but that’s why YOU are so lucky to be here. We almost lost your amazing, sweet mother just two years ago, which was why Papa and I were so nervous about being there for YOUR birth.
Shopping, you will learn, Beau, is a great psychological de-stressor for women, and especially for grandmas at times like these. After hearing your mom was in labor, I started biting my nails, shopped for hours, downed a Baskin Robbins triple espresso mocha cappuccino blast, ran into a baby boutique and bought 7 outfits for you.
I spotted a new shop across the street and, realizing I had nothing “blue or new ” to wear when I met you, ran in and power-shopped my way through 5 more centimeters of your mother’s labor. If you listen in between gulps while Mom is nursing you, you will probably catch her telling all the details of your birth… especially to her female friends. That means, if you smell perfume in the room, (any sickeningly sweet smell not nearly so enticing as Mommy’s milk), you can be sure you’re in for the story of “How My Boy Beau Made his Way Into this World.”
So, even though I started off a little miffed at you, my frostiness soon melted when what to my wandering eyes should appear on my phone, but a picture of your beautiful mother holding you at her breast.
There you are, wet, shiny and red,
With matted black hair atop your head.
Your mouth is all puckered, your eyes swollen with tears,
Yet you’re the most beautiful baby of the year!
And Mama, oh so gorgeous, is Madonna with Child.
At the sight of you both, Nana’s tears started flowing,
And now I’m on the plane– to New York I am going.
I’m OVERJOYED! For soon in my arms,
My sweet Beau I’ll be holding.
All my love,
Nana
