Enter Charlie Mac — Memoirs of Lowercaseg

Well g baby,

It’s all over but the crying. Twelve months in, and it's very clear life will never be the same. From the moment Lottie was born, things have been different. That’s not a bad thing. Different is just different, but different is definitely different. No looking back, my brotha. There will be a lot for you to process over the next Forever. Best of luck. You'll definitely need it; speaking from experience with your sister and female siblings in general. That being said, the changes continue. This letter is not for you. I promise there isn’t some conspiracy to take all you have and give it to Charlotte. However, give the device, the hologram, whatever you kids are using to read these days to your sister. I love you.

Charlotte Mackenzie Alexander,

Happy Birthday my little love, my clone, my real-life Dora Milaje. Welcome to the party. Let us start from the top.

It was winter of 2017 and your mother is pregnant with your brother. Not much baby prep has been done yet, but I have had an inspiring conversation about chronicling the adventures of parenthood. In this discussion, I tell this dad I know that I bought a baby book for that exact purpose. But what he does is far more interesting. This dad set up an email address for his first born not long after birth. When something extraordinary occurs, he sends an email to this address, giving a real time account of the details. His plan is to give his son the login and password at some point in the future to allow a glimpse into the past. I took that idea (Thanks, Nathan) and a little inspiration from Up Top, and I made it my own. A few weeks before Grayson hit the scene, I built a website and published my first letter. Off to the races, I went. Memoirs of Lowercase g was born.

One of the first comments I received, “OMG, I love this BUT what are you going to do if you have another kid? They are gonna have to have their own website too.” I responded with a quick “nah” and a shrug. I’ll figure something else out by that time. Whew, if that time didn’t come and go in the blink of an eye. (Apologies Lil’ Mama, I still haven’t figured it out. I will though.) Fast forward to March of 2019, and I’m writing these letters to your brother pretty regularly. We’re driving home one evening and your mother says she is feeling “off”. I clarify, “you feel sick?” She says, “No, just off.” Me: “Like OFF, off?!” I immediately pull into the closest Walgreens and pop in to buy Powerades, Advil Cold & Sinus, and a pregnancy test. Only one of these would end up helping.

We arrive to the house, and I begin making your brother a bottle. Mommy has to pee and doesn’t want to waste the opportunity to breathe a sigh of relief when she sees a negative test result. Spoiler alert: that negative result never came. I expected her to come back downstairs, but when she never does Grayson and I go up to make sure she hasn’t fallen in. We reach the top step, and there is your mother sitting Indian style on the floor of the nursery, face completely glazed over. I instantly know what this means. Inside, I get crazy excited, ecstatic. See for my thoughts and feelings in an older letter called 2 Under 2. But your mother, not so much. The look on her face is one of disbelief. She had the look one would have if you returned to where you 100% parked your car, and your car was not there. Her face said, “Did I take the aluminum foil off the plate before I started the microwave...and walked outside?!” So I temporarily bottled my excitement, helped her off the floor, and explained that if God brings us to it, He’ll bring us through it. A little time passed and her excitement arrived.

Now pay attention because this next part goes fast. I continued writing letters from there up until a month before you were born. In that time, we packed or sold most of our stuff. We moved out of our home and in with Lala and PopPop. Mimi and I painted what felt like the entire interior of Tucker house. Your mother and I started a new business and prepared to become landlords. Your brother was walking and talking, getting into everything at this point. Your babyshower was on 11/3/2020, and your arrival is set for 11/27/2019. But on November 7th, that train was derailed. Regrettably, Daddy had a sauce related incident and ended up in the hospital. Two days later, we exit from my stay. Even before you were born, you never liked not being in the mix. You started formulating your exit strategy. Either you wanted to see what all the fuss was about or you knew what was going on and wanted out to kick my ass. Twenty-four short hours after we leave the hospital, we return due to you causing aggressive contractions. After 8 hours in the hospital, doctors say it's a false alarm. Around 16 hours after that, we are back again and we’re not leaving with you still on the inside.

We’re in the delivery room cool, calm, and collected, despite my requirement of pain meds and a liquid diet. I speak with your Great Grandmother who is about to be sharing a birthday. Happy Birthday Granny A. Things are going well. And then they’re not. Doctors tell us your heart rate is dropping. In order to ensure you arrive safely, they want to get you out the surgical way. They whisk your mother into the O.R. and I am suited up in scrubs. Caesarian #2 for mommy. She is truly a warrior and has clearly passed that on to you tenfold. You arrive on the scene safe and sound and immediately commence what would become a year long battle of wills and wits.

For many moons, I let you just beat me relentlessly. You would try and scratch my eyes out before demanding I rock and sing you to sleep. You would scream and curse at me for feeding you too slowly, spraying me with food debris all the while because your mouth was full. You would force me to walk you at all hours of the night, well beyond the point where normal babies have locked down the sleeping skillset. I let the guilt of causing your early eviction allow me to be abused. For a while, maybe I even deserved it. But then one afternoon, I spoke with your birthday twin. Granny A told me I better not let you boss me around, that if I did you always would. So I nipped that in the bud and we’re almost equals (smh) at this point. I still sing to you because I want to. I still rock you to sleep, because it’s a good workout. You don’t yell at me as much anymore. And now there’s a bright twinkle in your eye whenever you see me enter the room. I know it's because you love me, but also because you know it's likely you’ll be eating whatever I’m eating in very short order. You’ve given me tears of joy and tears of sadness, feelings of triumph and feelings of defeat. And it’s only been a year!!! I don’t know what the future holds, but I can say this without a doubt. I LOVE YOU to the moon and back, and that will never change.