Dear Grandparents-to-be,

First and foremost, thank you for volunteering to help us welcome our little boy into the world. Your support during this crazy, exciting time means the world to us and will make a huge difference in the days to come as we scramble to adjust to our new lives as parents and his new life as an autonomous human being.

We've prepared a few guidelines we hope will make this a happy and productive time for us all, both before and after the baby comes. Many or most of these things probably go without saying. Nevertheless, we thought it best to go over them now, while we're still capable of communicating calmly and rationally, rather than later, when we may well be struggling to complete a sentence without crying or falling asleep. Apologies in advance if any of this comes across as either offensive or defensive; such is the nature of intergenerational dialogue. We love you dearly and cherish your good wishes for us and our child as we add a new shoot to the family tree.

Okay, here goes:

As the days pass, please keep in mind that even in the 21st century, there is absolutely no way to know when a mother will go into labor until it happens. When it does, we promise to let everyone know immediately. Until that time, questions along those lines can't be answered in any meaningful way and may well frustrate the equally eager parents-to-be, especially if January 4 approaches and passes with no news.

When the blessed event arrives, we're all going to be pretty overwhelmed. All the classes, books and doulas in the world can't take the place of firsthand experience, and we're looking forward to getting some. As much as we hope to prevail on your proven baby wisdom, we'll probably be too overstimulated for the first few weeks to take it in, except in small doses, in response to specific questions. Offering more advice than we're looking for may be counterproductive. As hard as it may be to stand by and watch us fumbling to figure things out ourselves, that may be what we need most from you.

After all this buildup, it seems like our little baby is the center of the universe. That's exactly how we like it. Particularly during and after the birth, we won't want to hear stories about any other babies or births, even our own (that's right -- for once in our lives, we won't want to talk about ourselves!) It's all about Baby J. (his name will be revealed as soon as he is -- don't worry, it's nothing weird or bully-provoking).

As we embark on the adventure of parenthood, we'll probably be incapable for a while of doing anything else. Amy's focus will be doing the one thing no one else can: feeding the baby (for the first few weeks at least -- until we get the bottle into the rotation). Your assistance will be most valuable in providing our most basic needs: feeding us, keeping the house in some semblance of order, shielding us from the outside world (well-wishers, delivery men, bill collectors, etc.), maintaining a nurturing environment of calm and quiet. You know, the same things you've always done. And maybe feeding the cats, too.

Although we've always been the most pleasant and good-humored of people, this may not be the case under the stresses and sleep deprivation of early parenthood. Please forgive us any brusqueness, irritability, crankiness, defensiveness and other sundry lack of grace. We do love you and will return to showing it more consistently once we've caught up with ourselves 15 or 20 years from now.

It will seem harsh at times to travel all this distance and be told that what we really want is quality time alone with the baby while you scoop kitty litter. Take solace in the thought that one day, our own children will treat us equally shabbily.

Please don't be shy about raising questions or concerns about any of the above or anything else in the next few days. Again, this is all offered in the spirit of calm and clear communication -- while it's still possible.

All our love, Amy & Dan