Dear Zola
Dear Zola,
I love you. You have captured my heart in ways no words can describe.
I thought I loved you 8 ½ months ago when your mother told me you were on the way. Then, I saw an ultrasound photo, and I loved you even more. When your mother sent another ultrasound photo 3 months later with a text that said, “It’s a girl,” my heart ballooned.
A global pandemic has kept me away from your mother for most of her pregnancy – something for which she may be grateful, but it has been torturous for me (you’ll understand some day)! I had to watch you gradually grow in her belly with the help of Zoom and FaceTime calls. I will always be thankful for technology during this time.
I kept thinking you would arrive early like your mother, but you, Zola, decided to wait until after your due date to make an appearance. I expect that patience is just one of the many things you’ll be teaching me in the future.
I drove to Oklahoma from Dallas on April 28 because I thought your mother’s water had broken. I was so distracted thinking that you were arriving soon, that I forgot to wish Sonz and Scott a happy anniversary. It may have been the hardest lesson in trust that I’ve ever experienced, as we waited for several days for word from the doctor that it really was time for your mother to go to the hospital. I slept with my phone on the bed beside my pillow Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday nights waiting for a call or text.
By Saturday, I was convinced you wouldn’t arrive until Monday, your mother’s scheduled induction date. So, I placed my phone on the nightstand, a whole foot away from my head. Maybe it was the fact that I hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours the nights before, but I managed to miss the texts from your mom and Sonz. How is that even possible? I was in the hospital waiting room for every agonizing second of Madi’s labor with your cousin, Audrey, yet I missed multiple texts and calls from your mom and dad and Sonz on Saturday night telling me that you were about to make your entrance.
When I finally looked at my phone at 8:23 a.m., I saw the last text from Sonz that said, “Don’t you want to hold that little bundle?” One of many regrets is that I missed all those texts and calls, but that regret pales in comparison to the gratitude that I feel for Sonz, McKenna, and Madi for talking and texting your mom through contractions throughout the night!
Zola, I hope that your life will be consumed by gratitude and wonder and not regret.
A few months ago, I read Our Italian Summer, after my best friend Carolyn mentioned it to me (I hope you’ll get to meet Carolyn and all my wonderful supportive friends soon)! The story is about a teenager (Allegra) accompanying her mother (Francesca) and grandmother (Sophia) on a trip to Italy. I’ll skip all the details because you may want to read it someday, but there is a part in the book where Allegra is complaining about her mother to her grandmother (yes, this may occur in your future, too, and I’ll be there to listen).
After she listened to her granddaughter, the grandmother said, “Mothers will never be perfect. We make many, many mistakes. The only thing we can hope is for our children to forgive us and believe we did our best. We must forgive our mothers for everything they are not.”
Zola, your parents may not always parent you in the way that you need or want, but I hope that you will always feel their love.
When your great-grandmother Emmy saw your photo today, she sent a text that said, “What a beautiful new person to love.”
So true! You are surrounded by many people who love you, Zola – your family and the extended family of all our friends. We are so glad that you are finally here.
I can’t wait for our adventures to begin! I can’t wait to discover who you are and who you will become. But I will. I will do my best to be patient. I will do my best to make sure you get to be you, whoever that is.
Love,
Nonni