Well we've reached the final chapter. I want to thank all of you for all your support. I'm so glad that I inspired so many with these letters and I do hope that you'll go back and read my other stuff. If you want my newest fic, The Deep Blue, it is actually only posted on BWR because I've been having technical difficulties with I still use the same screen name over there so feel free to check it out!
November 24th, 2007
To Caleb Nathan Danes,
Hey there, Little Boy. Happy 1st birthday. I can't believe it's been one year already. It seems not long ago that I was big and pregnant and had those fat ankles.
Back then I was living in an apartment in Paris. Did you know we used to live in Paris? (When I say we, I mean you and I, your daddy was back here in Stars Hollow.) When you grow up I'll bet you wish you could remember living there. It's a beautiful city and exactly equal to all the hype everyone makes about it. Maybe I'll take you there when you're older to visit your Aunt Graciela and her son, Gaston.
Anyway, I was living there because I had a job fixing up an inn on the outskirts of the city. It's the same inn that Graciela works at now. That's how we met actually.
Like I said, your daddy lived here. Well not here here, this house wasn't built yet. At least I don't think it was. Your daddy had it built while I was living in Paris so I'm not exactly sure of the exact date that they broke ground.
So he lived here and I lived there and I was missing him like crazy. You see, this was before I married him. (Which is obvious because you've seen pictures of our wedding and you were there.) We'd had a bit of trouble and instead of staying and trying to work things out, I ran to Paris. I was young (at heart) and immature and it was a stupid move to make, especially because my heart ached every day because I missed him so much.
It's one of the things I hope you don't inherit from me – my cut and run syndrome. Don't ever run away from something just because it's hard. Running may turn out to be the harder route in the end.
However, on that day a year ago, your daddy was in Paris with me. He claimed he came because I needed him, and I did, but I know he came because he was so excited to be your daddy. He was so excited to meet you and be there for the first moment you came into the world. I think he learned something about love by that experience; I think he realized that you don't need a reason to love your children. It's natural (at least for those who are actually human).
I knew he loved you long before we ever knew you.
You know, your sister April was thirteen the first time she met your dad. It's got to be a shock. Still to this day I can't imagine what must have been coursing through him the moment he first found out that he was her dad. And though I won't discuss what I thought of that at the time, I did know he loved her, even from the first moment I met her. He was protective already – he worried about the strangers she might meet, worried that she might be harmed, more than that he was worried she be ashamed when she realized that her father was nothing more than a simple man who owned a diner.
I'll let you in on this little fact. Yes, he's a guy who owns a diner, but he's also more than that. He's someone who's got your back. He'll be there even on your worst days, even when you don't expect him to be. And he'll love you unconditionally even when you don't think you deserve it anymore. He'll do anything for you, for me, for April and Rory and your future sibling who is sitting on my bladder right now. (Excuse me a moment.)
I don't know why your mother needed to tell you that, but I've learned to just accept her craziness and you should too, Caleb.
Okay I'm back. And I read what your father wrote just now and one day I'm going to teach him not to be mean to his pregnant wife.
What was I saying?
Oh okay, so that day a year ago I was in the apartment alone because your daddy was out shopping with Graciela for diapers and a million other things he claimed we needed but never ended up using. It was sweet but I wish he'd let me know what he was going to do ahead of time so I could have taken stock in Johnson & Johnson the moment we found out you were an it.
But, of course, that's when the pain started. And I called Luke to tell him, but also added that he didn't need to rush because it was going to be awhile. Of course, because he's Luke, he was back within minutes. By then I was on the phone with Rory letting her know that she was going to be a big sis soon. Your daddy started trying to drag me to the car and I had to keep telling him to wait, that I knew it would be awhile and it was so frustrating that if he wasn't being so incredibly wonderful right then I would have bitch-slapped him right back to the States. Let me tell you, I had enough hormones in me that I seriously considered doing that.
Eventually I was in so much pain that all I could do was get to the kitchen and give him a look and he was calling a cab. Thankfully, Graciela made her way to the apartment quickly and drove both your father and I to the hospital. It was a beautiful snowy day. Yes, it absolutely had to be snowing the day you were born. It was snowing when Rory was born. I hope Mother Nature will make sure it's snowing when your little sibling is born.
The whole ride over your daddy kept squeezing my hand or my knee and asking if I was all right. I'd look at him and smile and say that everything was perfect. I don't think he believed me but how could it not be true? He was there. It was snowing. And I was about to be a mother again.
Of course, by the time I got to labor and delivery, I was screaming and swearing (like a sailor on leave, as I always tell Rory). I was squeezing your daddy's hand so hard that I think he thought I might break it. But he stayed with me, telling me over and over that I could do it.
I have to admit this right now. I'm not sure how I made it through Rory's birthday. I know I was strong and independent and really trying to prove I could do it on my own. And I could. And I did basically raise Rory on my own. But why do it on your own when you don't have to?
Besides, at sixteen it seems important to show your independence. For Rory that didn't come until age twenty, but I think at some point every child feels a need to prove his or her independence. You'll have to produce this letter to remind me when you decide to do that one day.
But on that day a year ago, I wasn't alone. Your dad was right there with me on the exact moment you were born. Though you were a bit gross when you first showed up, after they cleaned you off and gave you to your daddy who handed you to me, you were the most perfect baby I'd ever seen. (Okay, tied with Rory. Probably also tied with this future lil Danes as well.) And when they cut the cord, I almost cried because it was the first step in breaking your dependence on me. You were just born – so cute and little – and I wanted to keep you like that forever. When I held you in my arms for the first time, my heart was so full that I couldn't speak.
Your father just said that I should add that it was a once in a lifetime occurrence. He's a funny one.
Then I handed you back to him. The way he held you so gently, so lovingly, it made me wonder how he could ever doubted what a great father he was going to be.
So that's that. That's the story of your birthday. It was one of the greatest days of my life along with Rory's birth and my wedding.
I love you, Little One. I've tried to give you everything and I want you to have all of that and more because you deserve it.
Now, I am aware that you're only one year old. Though you are the brightest little boy in the world, I know you can't read yet or even understand half of what I've written here. Your father just added that you probably will never understand half of what I say. Ignore him. He gets all whiney when he doesn't understand something I've said.
But here's the thing. This letter writing isn't something new for us – it's something we did for a whole year starting six months before your birth and ending six months after, during the whole time I was living in Paris. You may be wondering why in this day and age of phone and pagers and whatever other technological advances that I, your almost forty year old mother, probably will never figure out unless Rory teaches me, why did we write letters?
Here's the truth, Caleb (and it still hurts to remember it) but here goes: about six months before you were born, we (your daddy and I) were separated. We'd broken up and, more than that, we'd hurt each other so much that I felt like I ached every moment. That's when I moved to Paris. That's why I moved to Paris. I thought he was so angry with me and I was so angry with him, but still I couldn't imagine not communicating with him. Your father had come into my life over ten years before you were born. I'm not sure how or when it happened but he became my confidant and my best friend. I don't think I even realized it at first, until the first time we fought and didn't speak for a few days and I realized how much I missed him and the way he listened and the way he was always there. It's funny the way things happen and you don't even realize it until you're at a wedding and guy asks you to dance and suddenly you realize you're melting in his arms and blushing like a sixteen year old.
Anyway, I was over in Paris and all alone and just going crazy without him and I grabbed a piece of paper and started writing. Next thing I knew I was mailing it off and trying to decide if I should break into the post office to get it back so I couldn't have to face his reply, or worse, the lack of one. But he did write back.
Now we're sitting here, both with a box full of letters, about 52 each to be exact, and I think we've gotten all we needed to from them. We've read and reread them. We learned about ourselves and each other and life in general. But I - sorry we - want them to be so much more than that.
Today we write this letter and on your eighteenth birthday, you'll finally read this. You'll finally be given all of these letters (with a few parts marked out in black marker for our own personal reasons). I'm not sure what you'll get from them. Maybe they won't mean anything to you, I don't know. I only know you at one year, I don't know the eighteen year old Caleb. I do know, however, that I'll love him just as much, that's a certainty.
Maybe there'll be a time in your life when you'll be lost and wondering who and what to turn to. As your mother, I'll hope you could turn to me, but I know that's not common for eighteen year olds. Even Rory went through that phase. But I hope you'll have someone, even if you can only reach them by a letter, I hope you'll reach out to them. I hope you'll trust them to catch you and just love for who you are because I know you're a wonderful person. I hope these letters can teach you that.
More than anything, I hope you learn that this place, Stars Hollow, this house, the town, these people, your father, me, all your siblings, this is home. This is your home. It doesn't matter how far away you are or what happens we will always love you, we will always be there for you. Don't ever be afraid to come home.
Your mother says I need to write something and she's poking me for writing that. Caleb, if I could have one wish for you, I'd wish you happiness. Don't let pride or hurt get in the way. Just do whatever you can to be happy. I never knew true happiness until I met your mother and married her and had you. (Not in that order, of course.) When you and your mom were in Paris and I was here… it was the most I'd ever missed anyone in my life. And that's saying something. So don't ever let that happen to you. Don't ever be stupid enough to lose what makes you happy.
And that's all he wrote.
One more thing before I go grocery shopping for your birthday party and one of your mom's odd pregnancy cravings. I just want to say I love you, Caleb. Even if I don't say it enough. Don't ever doubt my love.
And now this is why I should never force him to do anything. Just a few sentences and he's already outdone me. Plus, now I'm crying.
So Happy Birthday, Little One. Even if you don't remember this day years from now, at least you'll have this as a memory.
With love,
Mom and Dad