Sadly though, a long life is not a guarantee.
Sometimes, we don’t receive all the things we most yearn for.
This is the reason that for every week that you’re in my belly, I will write you one letter. Each letter will include something about you and one thing I remember about me. My dreams and goals, my hobbies and pet peeves, funny stories from my childhood, what I’ve learned through the years about my family history, and all the things that make me who I am. Because one way or another, I promise you, you will know more about me than I knew about my mom.
With love,
Your Mother
* * *
To My Baby - Letter One
Hello, sweet pea!
According to my doctor, I’m about six weeks pregnant. That means you’re already about the size of a little pea. Doc says that I should expect to feel a little hormonal any day now, but I’m doing great.
As I write you this letter, I’m reminded about one random yet exciting memory from my childhood.
The couple in the house down the road from where I grew up had a boy named Andy, and beside them, there was a girl named Lily. Lily, Andy and I were best of friends. Back then, as I was the youngest and my Nonna wouldn’t let me out of her sight, their parents would send them to my house to play sometimes. Lily brought her favorite doll, and Andy always had a bright red fire truck.
One day, we were playing, and saw something on TV about time capsules. I think I was about nine years old. We thought it would be fun to bury our own time capsule in the backyard, so they ran home and came back with an item to put inside. Andy brought a set of Lego blocks he assembled into a fire truck. Lily brought one of her doll’s dresses that she had accidentally ripped along one side seam. I took the little red bow tie that was buttoned around the neck of my favorite Teddy bear, Mr. Giggles.
We took turns digging a hole between the raised roots of the large red oak tree at the corner of the grounds. I remember we did a three-way pinky swear promise that in thirty years to the day, we would meet at my house and dig up our time capsule. I was walking by the red oak tree the other day.
Oh, you should know that your father and I rebuilt the home you'll grow up in on the same property where I grew up. That means you'll probably play very close to where we buried the time capsule.
Another thing I should mention is that my father, your Nonno, found us while we were digging the hole. He thought it was interesting that we had managed to dig a hole so deep. He said that secrets were the only things people buried deeper than our hole. I never understood what that meant until now…
That does remind me… one of these letters will explain more about our family history. It’s complicated and probably somewhat messy, but many families are like that. Not all, but a lot of them.
Getting back to the subject of the time capsule, can you believe it? You'll be almost eleven years old when we hit that milestone. I know because we carved two dates into the red oak tree trunk. The day we buried the time capsule, and the day we're supposed to unearth it.
I don’t know if Lily and Andy remember our childhood project. We lost touch years ago when they went off to college, but their families still live in the neighborhood. Maybe I’ll look them up and remind them.
Hope to share that milestone with you when you’re older!
With love,
Your Mother
* * *
To My Baby - Letter Two
Hello, blueberry!
I’m seven weeks pregnant, and that means you’re about the size of a blueberry. I was nauseous on most mornings of this past week, but not to worry. It’s perfectly normal. And it’s a sign that you’re strong, I hear. That’s what my Nonna says, anyway.
Nonna is Italian for grandmother, I should mention. That’s where your father’s and my family are from, originally. One day when you’re older, we’ll take you there to visit both of our famiglias. You have so many cousins and great aunts and great uncles. I’m an only child, but your father has two brothers and a sister. They’re all so excited to meet you!
I'm going to keep this letter short, because my morning sickness has been sticking around for much longer than just the mornings. I think they should call it pregnancy sickness.
In any case, I promise you a much longer one next week.
With love,
Your Mother
* * *
To My Baby - Letter Three
Hello, raspberry!
I’m eight weeks pregnant. That’s almost two whole months! The growth charts in the baby book I’m reading says that you’re around the size of a raspberry, and you’re growing at the rate of about one millimeter per day. I can’t picture what a millimeter looks like, because we use inches, feet, and pounds, not the metric system. But that’s still a lot!
I’m still having morning sickness, but there’s more going on in my digestive system this week. Let’s just say that if I had a couple of clothespins handy, your father and I wouldn’t use them to hang laundry. They would be pinching our noses! I’m sure you’ll smile when you come to understand what I’m talking about. Definitely when you’re older.
I also have some news for you! Your father's mother, your last living Nonna, will be moving in with us. Nonna Romano is from a big, influential family back in Italy. This is the part from a couple of letters ago, where I mentioned that families are a bit different in the home country. Here in American culture, government, business, religion, and family have a clear separation between them. In Italy, all of these entities have a lot more overlap, and often, they all work together to take care of one another. Together, we solve problems internally, preserve our customs, defend what we own, and keep families safe. Within our society, we all have a role to play, and we all know our place, and how we're supposed to treat one another. It's just our way, and for the most part, it works excellently. We might be called a mob family here in America, or an organized crime family. But soon, when you're older, you'll see that it's not quite that simple.
Anyway, Nonna Romano will be here in a few months to help me take care of you. You’re not her first grandchild, but between you and me, I think she sees something unique in your father. The famiglia might be grooming him to take over some of their businesses. We’ll find out more when she arrives. She’s so excited that you’re on the way!
With love,
Your Mother
* * *
To My Baby - Letter Four
Hello, cherry!
You've been forming and growing inside me for nine weeks, my darling! You've officially graduated from an embryo to a fetus, according to all the baby books. I honestly don't remember what my life was like before I learned about you, love. The doctor and everything I've been reading says it's normal for me to feel that way. Isn't that something?
Your father is so very excited. Just this morning, he was talking about how much he’s looking forward to the day you’re born. While he was mentioning you, we both started wondering whether you could hear us. The funny thing is, he referred to you as ‘she’. I don’t know if he has an inside line to your gender, but the more I think about his slip of the tongue, the more I feel it’s truly sweet.
You see, I know I mentioned a bit about this before, but you’re going to be born into an Italian family, and it’s one where on both sides of our family, they’ve grown used to boys being the firstborn child. So if you’re female, you’ll seriously be breaking with tradition. That’s why I think it’s sweet that your father might secretly be hoping for you to be a girl. No matter whether you’re a girl or a boy, we’re both going to have so much love for you. We already do.
As for me, I've had a really good week, symptoms-wise. Your great paternal grandmother, Nonna Romano, gave me her family's home remedy for morning sickness. I tried it, and it worked! I never thought grated ginger, lemon peel, and lukewarm aranciata soda would taste the least bit bearable, let alone do the trick. She also suggested that I should sleep with a heating pad. It's not a bad idea, consi
dering that the weather had been close to the freezing mark around here lately.
Speaking of, I think it’s time to wrap up this week’s letter and crank up the heat some more. Thank you for coming into our lives, little one.
With love,
Your Mother
* * *
To My Baby - Letter Five
Hello, strawberry!
I’m ten weeks pregnant! My goodness, you’re growing so fast! And guess what? Soon, your father and I will get our first real glimpse of you. Yes, we’re going to see you! I have my first ultrasound scheduled for next week. The OB-GYN recommended it so she can estimate when you’ll arrive. Once we have your due date, we can plan and make sure everything is ready for you.
I have to admit I'm a little nervous. Of course, I'm sure every expecting mother is worried, hopeful our little bundles of joy are healthy, happy, and whole while we carry you in our womb, nature's incubator. It's a big job. The other reason I have a wee bit of concern is because I have been picturing you like a little person since I found out I was pregnant. This ultrasound will show us your outlines, and some of your parts, like your head, hands, and feet. I guess I don't want that image of you that I dreamed up to change.
Still, we are so excited to finally see you next week! Can’t wait, my darling.
With love,
Your Mother
* * *
To My Baby - Letter Six
Hello, lime!
I'm eleven weeks pregnant, and I'm starting to show. We were wondering how long it would take for me to start wearing maternity clothes. I'm not exactly there yet, but most of my jeans and fitted pants can't quite make it around my midsection anymore. And when I turn to the side in the full-length mirror hanging on my bathroom door, there's a little round bump below my belly-button that wasn't there before. That's you!
My appointment for the ultrasound is tomorrow. I can't tell you how excited we are to see you. Your father will be with me too. He can't wait. He's already said that he's going to have the doctor take a few extra snapshots so he can mail one of the ultrasound pictures to Nonna Romano. And he wants one that he can show his friends, and one to put into a frame. Of course, I want one too, and I plan to attach it to next week's letter so you can see it while you read these letters, when you're older.
On my end. I've been a bit more tired than usual, and my calves have been tight and sore. But I hear it's not out of the ordinary. The good news is I haven't felt nauseous for at least a few days. And I can't wait to see you tomorrow! Well, we'll see you, I mean. Not the other way around. But you will soon. I promise.
With love,
Your Mother
* * *
To My Baby - Letter Seven
Hello, plum!
You made it to the twelve-week mark! We've been keeping you a secret from most of my friends and acquaintances, mostly because it's one of those hard and fast traditions in our family, to wait until the biggest risks of anything happening are over. Actually, since the ultrasound last week, your father and I have had the hardest time keeping the news of your arrival quiet.
My heart almost burst when the ultrasound technician pointed to your small form on the screen.
You’re truly the most gorgeous thing we’ve ever seen. The second I saw the image of you, I couldn’t stop the tears that kept springing from my eyes. I think I saw your father swipe one away from the side of his face too, though he probably won’t ever admit that.
But now that you've hit the twelve-week mark, we've been sharing the news of you with everyone. We couldn't be more ecstatic. Not that I could hide it, now that I'm showing.
We also found out your due date is August 10th. That means you might be in the Leo astrological sign like me. My doctor has already advised us that like most first pregnancies, you might arrive up to a few weeks late. If you do, it will make you a Virgo like your father. His birthday is on September 7th.
On the subject of birthdays and celebrations, your father and I (and you, too, of course) are flying to Boulder, Colorado for a few days later this week. We'll visit a first cousin that he's close to, but also plan to spice it up with a little romance by returning to a gorgeous ski cabin we had visited one year around Valentine's day. We'll have to make the best of this trip because, in all likelihood, I won't be able to do much traveling once we're in the third trimester. Rocky Mountains, USA may be the one place we take you outside of New Jersey before you arrive.
Don’t worry, though. I’ll keep you warm! I plan to bundle up.
With love,
Your Mother
* * *
To My Baby - Letter Eight
Hello, lemon!
I’m at the end of the first trimester, my darling. That’s three whole months! You might be the size of a lemon at week thirteen, but boy have you grown. I am officially ‘girthly,’ now that we’re a third of the way to your delivery date. All my yoga pants are too snug around my waist now. So that leaves bulky sweatpants, and the couple of maternity jeans I picked up the other day. I suppose all the juicy ribeye steaks and loaded baked potatoes I inhaled while we were in Colorado last weekend contributed to my expanding waistline. But it was so worth it.
Now that we’re home again, I’m back to walking a mile or two every couple of days to maintain some cardiovascular conditioning. For us.
With love,
Your Mother
* * *
To My Baby - Letter Nine
Hello, peach!
Fourteen weeks!
That's right. We're in the second trimester, and you're doing awesome. My morning sickness is all gone. I've been eating everything in sight. At this rate, you'll go from peach to watermelon before long. Thank goodness I'm growing used to our regular walks.
It's strange, we've been back home for over a week, yet our trip to Colorado has been on my mind a lot. Your second cousin Fausto and his wife enjoyed our visit so much that they're planning to fly here to see us in New Jersey this spring. Between you and me, I think they have a charmed life. Fausto is the first Romano, and probably the only one, that the family gave permission to have what I like to call a normal, apple-pie life. He became a commercial airline pilot after college. The family was so proud.
But the thing that’s really significant is that they released him from any obligation to work in one of the family’s many businesses. It’s the first time this has happened. Well, second if you count your great uncle who became a Catholic priest. You may be wondering why I find it fascinating. It’s because on my side of the family, this practice is nonexistent. Maybe one day you might question all of this. Family, commitment, loyalty, the business. After all, we live in America so we should be free to do as we please, right?
We are free. The only answer I can give you to that thought is something my Nonna used to say. Freedom is relative, depending on where you’re standing, and who’s standing with you.
And you know what? All this contemplation about such complex matters has made me rather restless, so it’s time for our walk.
With love,
Your Mother
* * *
To My Baby - Letter Ten
Hello, navel orange!
Navel orange sounds about right, my love. With stress on the navel. I’m at fifteen weeks, and I’m pretty sure my innie is threatening to become an outie.
The books say you’re just over two pounds now. Except the scale says I’ve gained a whopping fourteen pounds. Holy mama, I hope all that weight gain is justifiable padding to keep you warm and safe.
I was in town yesterday, and a new baby store has just opened up around the corner from the grocery store. I couldn’t stop myself from taking a peek, and was tempted to buy some of the hand knitted newborn onesies on display. We don’t know your gender yet, so, fair warning. Your mother may end up doing a bit of impulse buying, and if I do, that store might be partly responsible for all the green, yellow, and neutral colored garments in your first wardrobe.
With love,
&n
bsp; Your Mother
* * *
I put the letters back in the box, close the lid, and slide it across the study desk, away from me.
I can’t read another word.
I really can’t.
Not now.
My hands are shaking violently, my chest is tight, and my vision is blurred by all the tears that I’ve shed just reading the first ten letters.
This is too much to process in one sitting.
My mother wrote these notes to me with her own hand? She sat at a desk probably not much different from the one where I sit, and thought of all these things she wanted to tell me? Her fingers glided over these sheets of paper? It feels like she’s speaking to me from the grave, from the other side, and it’s more than I can take.
Father’s right. He should be here. I can’t do this without him.
My phone rings as I think about whether to phone him. Believing it might be him, I check the number on the screen. It's not him. It's Tammy Lou, but as much as I want to be there for my friend, it's not a good time. I couldn't form a coherent sentence, let alone talk to her. But less than a minute after I reject her call, she phones me again. This time, when I reject her call, I send her one of those pre-written messages that are programmed into my phone. It's a simple note that I'll call her back as soon as I can. But even after sending that short message, she phones for the third time. She's not a big chatter on the phone, so I know she must need me for something.
Picking up the box, I place it in my suitcase, and I accept her call.
“Hey Tams,” I answer, and hear the whimper of my post sobbing voice over the line like audio feedback. “I’m in the middle of something here, but I figure you’d have to have some kind of emergency to phone three times in a row. Is everything okay?”
Fall (A Mafia Crime Family Romance) Page 11