A note to my future daughter-in-law

Hello, dear,

I hear you like my son. I don't blame you a bit, my dear, because he is wonderful. He chose you because he thinks that you are wonderful, too, and I am so happy. I promise to be warm and kind and excited, and I will do my best to be a very good mother-in-law. I don't have a mother-in-law around, and therefore don't have a vivid example of the dos and don'ts, but in general I hear that I should go easy on the advice. Done. This shall be my mantra: do whatever you want and I'm sure it'll be great. Except this: don't put tuna in a casserole dish for any reason. There. Now you and I will be fast friends, I'm sure. May I ask a favor?

Please, be gentle with my mother heart and remember: he used to be mine.

One day, I held the wiggly, squirmy weight of him on my lap and I saw the light from the window behind him fall on his round baby cheeks and he was mine. It was me he waited not so patiently for in the morning, chubby little fingers wrapped around the crib rails and a brilliant smile when I opened the door.

Before he was yours, he was mine and I lifted him out of his high chair with Cheerios stuck to his belly. I saw the way his baby eyelashes closed onto his soft, pale cheeks when he fell asleep.

He scratched my face in his eagerness to play, grabbing at my lips and nose and eyeballs while he laughed and screeched in delight.

I clipped those sharp fingernails. I washed his bum and wiped his nose and blew raspberries on his belly. I sang the Piggy song and tickled his toes and laughed about how the second one is shorter than the third.

I watched him take his first awkward Frankenstein steps and he was nobody else's but mine.

And now maybe he is yours but not entirely. The part of him, the part with the little rosebud lips and the way he waggles his head back and forth to make us laugh, that part isn't yours because it wasn't his to give.

It's mine.

And even though I am so excited to have you near, I'm going to keep just that one little part all to myself.

All my love,
His Mama

(P.S. I guess my feelings on tuna casserole really aren't all that strong. Do whatever you want. I'm sure it will be great.)