Dear Son

You were conceived in the wee hours of February 16, 2007 at the W hotel on 39th and Lexington in New York City. Mommy and Daddy were on a mini vacation and your sister was back home being entertained with blanket rides by Gammy and Aunt Karen. It wasn't snowing that night, but there were some hardened gray chunks of ice still accumulated in the crevices of the city's sidewalks from a storm earlier in the week. It was colder outside than a witches tit, as they say. But you shouldn't say that. Tit is a bad word in most circles.

Daddy says he knew you'd just been conceived the minute his toes uncurled. Mommy wasn't that coherent, and because she is always the skeptic, wouldn't have believed anyway that it was that easy to get pregnant, before we were ready. Again.

Your sister was also conceived in New York, when Mommy and Daddy still lived there, only across the river in Brooklyn, either in Mommy's loft on Kent Avenue or in Daddy's railroad apartment on Grand Street. We're not exactly sure of the night. Your conception is easier to pinpoint because things like that happened less frequently by the time you came along. One day when you're married and have a child of your own you'll understand what I mean.

A few weeks later, back in Austin, I believe it was Sunday, March 1st, Mommy suggested we pick up a pregnancy test during a trip to Albertson's. Before the grocery run, Mommy, Daddy and Z had dinner at that little bistro in the Village. Mommy drank a glass of wine and, anticipating the outcome of the pregnancy test, said out loud, "Well, this might be my last glass of wine for a while." Daddy shuffled his feet nervously. Mommy even saw his face twitch a little bit. Z just looked along ignorantly, shoving confetti-sized chunks of pizza into her baby maw.

Turns out Daddy was right to be nervous. The test turned back two pink lines right away. We were flabbergasted at the news. Mommy almost never uses the word flabbergasted, but in this case, there really is no other word. Z even danced around the bedroom in awe, throwing her hands up and grinning, as if she too were saying, "Oh my God, I can't believe it. Are we seriously having another baby right now?"

Your sister Z was only 10 months old. Mommy had breast fed her up until she was 8 months old. So, in effect, Mommy's body had only just been returned to its rightful owner for a few short months. Then, you came along to inhabit it. Now, don't get me wrong. I was thrilled to have you come along. We had always planned on having two children. Let's just say you came a lot earlier than we'd discussed. And I'm sure it's only the first of many times in your life that you'll surprise us.

While Daddy was the one who chose your sister's name, Mommy was the one who found yours. I was reading a baby names book one night in bed while Daddy was at band practice. Usually Mommy reads baby names books to find out what NOT to name the baby, but way in the back, in a section titled something like "What nobody else will name their son, but you might!" I found a name that just seemed so perfect for you. I called Daddy and ran it by him and he loved it immediately. He said he was impressed I'd actually come up with a cool name. (Daddy doesn't give Mommy enough credit sometimes.) Gammy doesn't like the name at all, and she will deny this later, so I'm just telling you right now before she has the chance to feign innocence.

You gave Mommy's body a whoopin' while you were growing inside me. I think you were harder on me than your sister was. I guess I just hadn't spent enough time recovering before you came along, so it seemed tougher this time. I wonder if you will always be harder on me than your sister? Your sister is a sweet little girl, which you might have a hard time believing once she becomes a teenager, but it's true. I'm just sayin'. You have some awfully big Robies to fill.

You've been growing now in Mommy's belly for nine months. Mommy predicted you would be born on October 24th. She even wrote it on the calendar. And now that day has come and gone. You were Mr. Hurry Into Existence and now you're Mr. Take Your Sweet Ass Time. Which makes you Mr. Inconsistent and I have absolutely no idea where you might have inherited that.

We await your arrival ever so anxiously, my dear son. We love you so, so much. Now hurry up and get here so we can cuddle and stuff.

Love,
Mommy