Dear Peter,
This might be a little discombobulated, but bear with me. I want you to know everything, and I'm never sure where to start. You wont be here for a few weeks but I think I have put this off long enough.
To head things off: You were a wish in my heart before you were ever a heart beat in my womb. I used to dream (starting as a young teenager) of having three children, two boys and one girl. I have no idea why it was always that number and that breakdown, but it was. I never really settled on any boy names, I always found it easier to come up with girl names.
I met your father when I was 12. I fell in love with him pretty much the moment I saw his goofy grin, and his long really course and thick hair. So thick that it stood up straight off of his head. He loved the band Green Day, and video games and had a stupid sense of humor. He was 14. He went with me to my first concert to see Bush. I was totally smitten with the lead singer who your father teased me mercilessly about. Our first kiss was one night in my bedroom while watching an episode of SeaQuest after your father had chased my escape artist of a dog through the neighborhood after she'd sneakily pushed out a screen in the window. He taught me how to play spades and gave me all of his Green Day CDs. He spent school nights with his father, and weekends with his mother, so I didn't see him every day. He called me every day after school.
Throughout two summers of young teen aged drama and mostly innocent fun, he become my first boyfriend. We made some adult mistakes, but I don't have any regrets about that, probably because there were never any real consequences other than that I had to stop seeing him. I never got pregnant, and we were good kids honestly. That is probably the most adult mistake your father and I ever made. We've never done any drugs (never even tried marijuana), neither of us smoke, your father doesn't drink at all, and I only occasionally do. Your father doesn't even curse. Ever. I'm serious. I guess I am telling you these things because despite the fact that I don't regret this, I also don't really want you to repeat this. We should have waited and spared ourselves the aftermath of parents finding out. I should have known in retrospect. I could never hide anything from my mother. The other reason I am telling you this is because you should know that mistakes happen but that they don't have to dictate the rest of your life. Mistakes don't make you less worthy of love or respect or happiness.
We stayed apart for years after that, only meeting occasionally in the neighborhood until I was 19. We talked occasionally and I invited him to come to an anime convention with me. You will experience these, both of your parents still work these events. During that trip I realized I was still very much into him. Maybe it was the wistfulness of the memories from before but it was very easy to love him.
I was not happy with me though. I didn't think I was very worthy of love and I was terrified of rejection and so I never pursued him. Plus, he got very into religion at that point in his life, which intimidated me because I went the exact opposite way. I had other "boyfriends" but never anything serious, no sexual relationships. I just didn't want to. I didn't trust anyone enough to give that away again.
Years later, I was 24, and I met his mom at Royal Farms. Which made me want to talk to him again. Maybe those wistful memories again? I emailed him to the only email I could remember him having, and I got myself ready for the disappointment of never hearing from him again. I imagined that he would be married with children by now.
Apparently not though. He emailed me back. Apparently he only kept that email in the hopes that I'd email him someday. Silly boy. He should have emailed me.
We talked through email a bit before we began talking on the phone. We talked on the phone every night. Then we began to see each other again. It was very very easy. Somehow, we trusted one another and felt comfortable from the get go. He had never had another girlfriend.
Your fathers mother, one of your grandmothers, was a little unstable. I could tell you plenty of stories about her that might make you laugh, but immortalizing them here in a blog wouldn't do her any justice. She had schizophrenia, and previous substance abuse. She lost one child (your fathers younger sister) to a very shady adoption and her life was not an easy one. She loved your father though, it was obvious. He was her life. He had moved in with her at some point when he realized she needed help with her bills, and had gone full time at UPS where he still works to this day.
Your father will tell you that his mother liked me just fine, but I never felt that way. She certainly didn't appreciate her adult son spending so much time with a woman. They had a fight, and he moved in with me over night. My mother, your grandmother loves your father. She took to him very quickly and accepted him as a part of her family.
It didn't take long for your father and I to get married. We did it without a giant party, and the debt. The only thing I miss is the party. We did it in the kitchen of a friend and then had a cake fight. Your father was still wearing his drivers uniform. It felt surreal. I think neither of us ever thought we'd get married. It also felt right. Never in my life have I ever been so completely sure of a decision before.
We were happy.
Shortly after we were married his mother got sick. She was going to ERs every other night looking for relief. Finally one of the ERs she went to looked more in depth and found that she was very sick. She had end stage pancreatic cancer. The family was told they'd have a little time, but she didn't make a whole week. Your father was at work when the hospital called me. He didn't have a cell phone, so it was my number on record.
I went to pick him up from work, and had to tell him that his mother had died. He cried Peter. He cried so hard, with his head on my shoulder and tears streaming down his face. I think in total I have seen your father cry three times, and one of those times was at his mothers funeral. No matter what anyone says about your grandmother she loved your father and he loved her and that should be enough for you to respect her memory. That night your father went to the hospital. He insisted that he go and she not be alone. He collected her things and said goodbye. I'm not sure I could have done what he did. It was more bravery than I think I have ever had.
Our lives were mildly uneventful after that. We tried for about a year to get pregnant, but I was majorly overweight and have a condition called PCOS. The more I read, the more heartbroken I became. I felt like I would never have a child, and that was hard. It made me feel like a shell of a person. It's not true. I know I have more to offer the world than my ability to have children, and your father certainly thought I did. I never disappointed him, no matter what I did or couldn't do. We ended up with too many cats and a house full of roommates and friends until my grandfather passed away and we moved back in with my mother to help her with bills.
I started birth control to keep my mind off of the problem and to control the symptoms of my condition while I took on the task of losing weight. It took me 6 years to stop waffling. I went from 460lbs in June 2014 to 287lbs in October of 2015. I had come off of birth control in July of 2015 on the advice of my doctor. I was 32, and she thought I should try again. We were pregnant with you by the beginning of November that same year. I was shocked and elated, and your father was nervous and pensive. We've now changed positions. I'm terrified and he knows everything is going to be okay.
Oh your name! My grandfather, who we called Pop, was probably my biggest role model was named Peter Stuart Graham. He taught me how to ride a bike, pet a cat, divide backwards, recognize every continent and body of water on the planet and was the reason why despite everyone else in my family smoking, I never did. He made it clear he thought it was not very intelligent given how much information was out there about cigarettes now, to begin smoking. I never wanted him to think I was "unintelligent" so I never did.
Anyway, I was named after my grandmother, who we called Nan, her name was Ruby, but your grandmother didn't name your uncle after Pop. That's okay because all these years later we felt like it was the only name that fit. Your uncle and I both have 2 middle names so you will too. You will have Pop's whole name followed by our last name.
Anyway, this is getting long, and I have a lot more to say so I will continue this tomorrow!
Love,
Mom
