Tuesday, November 11, 2014

An open letter to my future child

I don't know your name yet. I don't know if you'll grow inside my body, or in someone else's. Maybe you're already out in the world somewhere, breathing the same air I am. Maybe the same moonlight that weaves its fingers between the slats in my blinds also lights your windowsill each night.

I don't know what you'll look like. I don't know if you'll be fascinated with outer space or if you will love art like me, or both. It's possible you'll be one of those kids who never. stops. singing. Maybe you'll be totally into sports and I'll finally have to learn to love baseball in order to connect with you. Or maybe you'll be a bookworm and you'll beat me in Scrabble thanks to your ever-growing vocabulary. Maybe I'll read you a chapter of A Wrinkle In Time each night like my mother read to me. You'll really like my mom-- she's funny and so smart.

Maybe you'll hum when you chew your food like your uncle did when he was a toddler. I will hope you like vegetables, and try to feed you foods that will help you grow strong. Maybe you'll hate bath time, but I hope you don't, because I have a very sensitive nose.

I'll love you even when you're sick and whiny. I'll love you even when you say you hate me. I'll love you when you smell and when you say embarrassing things in public. I'll love you when we are at the kitchen table, struggling so much with your math homework that we are both in tears. I'll love you even when you're three and also when you're thirteen and slam your door all the time.

I don't know who your father will be. It might be just us, and that's okay. I don't know your story yet, but I want to-- I want to know and love everything about you, but not yet.

I'm not sure when I'll meet you, or who I'll be then. I can promise I'll be stronger than I am right now. I know the road to you, no matter who or where you are, will be long and hard, and I'll cry some on the way. But you're worth the wait because I'm worth the wait.

I want to be the best mom I can be for you, and that means I need to do some hard work first. But don't worry, I think about you every day and I know that the second I see your face and you lay your head on my shoulder or put your hand in my hand, I'll be right where I belong. Every single tear I've cried along the way will be worth it.

Every single tear I cried this week will have been worth it.