Dear Antonio,
As your first birthday approaches, I can't help but consider how my life - and I - have changed since you joined our family. Not only did my faith come back as soon as I was pregnant with you, but I have also been forced to reconsider several assumptions about what I thought were best-practices in parenting. Thanks to becoming a mother of two, I have a new appreciation for other mothers, mothers with more than one child, mothers who parent differently from me. I no longer judge them.
My faith was destroyed in the aftermath of postpartum depression and anxiety that I had after Natalia was born. Try as I may, I couldn't regain it. Then you came along, and I instantly knew you were here to stay, that you were a boy, and ... I suspect you may be called to the priesthood someday. (No pressure!)
Antonio, you started to walk shortly after turning 10 months. You already had 8 teeth by then. That's when you started shaking your head "no" when you were full or if I tried to offer you oatmeal without a piece of fruit on the spoon! You grin from ear to ear when I show you the sign for "milk", knowing you're about to get nursed. You climb on everything and you're so curious about the world around you. Everything is still new to you, and it's a joy to watch you discover God's great creation. You smile and laugh easily, especially when tickled under your arms or on your inner thighs! You play "kosi lapki" and love to hear me sing it while you clap. And boy do you love your big sister! You look for her when she's not around. You touch her face as you examine her up close. You grab things out of each other's hands already, but you do play together and enjoy each other's company.
You're not a big fan of the potty. You hate having your diaper changed, too. For the sake of peace, I've had to put cloth diapering, line drying laundry, and elimination communication on hold. I also have been less than inspired when it comes to feeding you. You love solid food, but just like your sister, you seem to be a foodie - something your mom is not. So I don't let you feed yourself nearly as frequently as I did Natalia. The mess is just too much for me.
You sleep with me and nurse a few times each night, which is no big deal as long as you have a few sips and turn back to sleep. Some nights you think you're at an all-night cafe, which is not conducive to your mom's back health, nor does it contribute to sufficient sleep. But otherwise, I can't complain, so I never know what to say to people who ask how you're sleeping. Better than if you were in a crib all alone in another room, that's for sure. But I don't like to ruffle any feathers. Not anymore, anyway!
My hopes for you are that you will always be as intrigued about the world as you are now, and that you will always welcome everyone with a kind smile, as you do now. May you discern your calling in life earlier rather than later, so that you can go about the business of serving God with the joy and determination that are evident in your personality.
We named you Antonio Fernando. Antonio means "worthy of praise", and we want your life to be a testament of God's great love for us; may your life show that God is worthy of praise. Fernando means "adventurer". Saint Anthony of Padua (born Fernando Martins de Bulhoes) is patron of lost things, and he has come through for us three times already. Once, he helped me find the becik (baptismal pillow) you were to be baptised in, as mommy foggy brian crept in and I couldn't remember where I was "safe keeping" it prior to your baptism. Another time, Natalia found her sunglasses after asking St. Anthony to help her find them the night before. Most recently, he arranged for Daddy to forget to take the recycling to the curb on pick-up day, and when I went to take out recycling, I found a poem I had written and lost several days earlier, which was giving me much grief. When we chose Antonio Fernando, we envisioned a holy adventurer :) Peraps a missionary priest?
Of course, now that you're here and I've had time to consider what a religious vocation would entail, namely being separated from you for extended periods of time, I'm sort of eating my words. But in the end, it's not my will but God's that shall prevail. I am so grateful to God for having blessed me with you. I didn't think I could handle two children. I didn't think I could find enough room in my heart for both of you, but with God, all things are possible!
I love you my little darling. My little cuddle bug. So much!
Love, Mamusia
