Dear Unseen Son and Imaginary Daughter,
Let’s be honest: I’m not entirely sure I’m meant for this journey of motherhood. When I was a child, I learned about childbirth and thought, “There’s no way I’ll ever push a watermelon out of my body!” My mom chuckled, hinting that my perspective would shift with time. Well, time has passed—I’m now 32—and my feelings remain unchanged.
The reason I’m reaching out to you both now is straightforward. As I grow older—specifically, when I reach my mother’s age—I envision having adult children. I dream of celebrating birthdays with you, enjoying cake while you insist I look younger than my years. I hope for Sunday brunches with you, Daughter, where I see my traits reflected in you, and I imagine you, Son, helping me cultivate flowers in our front yard, knowing that my green thumb is more black than anything else.
I already love you both, even though you don’t exist yet. Future Me is embracing the idea of our life together, resembling a cozy armchair that fits just right. I picture myself with silver hair, exuding elegance like Ellen Burstyn, but with a wardrobe flair like Diane Keaton, and a voice reminiscent of Kathleen Turner. Future Me is convinced that welcoming you into my life is the right decision. Present Me, however, is still unsure, and I ask for your understanding as I navigate these conflicting feelings.
Right now, I realize I can’t embark on this adventure alone. I need a partner, someone I can lean on without fear of collapsing. Without that primal urge to nurture coursing through me, I know I’ll need someone by my side to share the load. I often envy those women who possess that unwavering instinct.
I admit I’m scared and uncertain, questioning whether I possess the necessary nurturing qualities. Perhaps finding someone with a “daddy gene” could help me piece together an experience that resembles what nurturing should be. I believe I will find that person in time, though some days I feel more hopeful than others.
Despite my love for the familiar and the stable, I often feel restless. There was a time I impulsively drove to Canada just because I could. Sometimes, I even overfeed my cat and wander off for longer than expected. I cherish my solitude, whether it’s swimming, writing, or drifting in a sea of melancholy. I acknowledge that I can be quite selfish, but at this moment, I can afford that.
Letting go of silence and mental space for your needs is daunting. I’m not quite ready to sacrifice any of that yet, and you deserve every bit of my attention. I promise I’ll get there, though I may stumble along the way. I might struggle to remember that I’m no longer alone, and I might feel frustration when you need me constantly. I ask for your forgiveness in advance for those moments.
I apologize for not being prepared for you yet. I regret that I’m single and feeling a bit bored and that my maternal instinct feels like it’s barely whirring to life. I know that after you arrive, adjusting will be challenging. I’m sorry for my mood swings, my inability to hide feelings of jealousy, and how I might come off as rude when I’ve had enough social interaction. I’ll do my best, but I know I’ll falter.
Future Me has a clear vision of life, but Present Me will be your mother. I promise to strive for the best, even on days when my efforts fall short. There will be moments of joy and lessons about love, silliness, and resilience. I’ll guide you through challenges, from dealing with bullies to navigating relationships, and I’ll impart the wisdom of how to dress appropriately and appreciate the nuances of life.
The longer I write this heartfelt letter to you, the more it feels like a reflection of my own insecurities. I often compare myself to others and feel inadequate, but I remind myself that everyone has unique strengths. Someone once said that comparison steals joy, so I’ll encourage you to embrace your individuality and shine in your own right. You are more than what the universe imagined. Life is not a competition, and every day you show up is a remarkable victory.
Am I doing well so far? I need to return to my previous thoughts and acknowledge that I often struggle with focus. Prepare for that!
I promise there are many things I excel at, and I will be as patient and kind as possible when teaching you. I won’t berate you for cutting vegetables incorrectly. I’ll reveal secrets to making the perfect stone soup and roasting potatoes flawlessly. I’ll share tips on creating a beautiful room on a budget, knitting a scarf, and even building your confidence in social settings. I’ll instill in you the notion that reading is alluring, listening is paramount, and honesty is essential.
Trust me; things won’t always be perfect. We will mess up, sometimes making situations worse while we try to clean up the chaos. Yet one day, while you’re preparing a delicious brunch or planting flowers, the past and future will collide, and we will become something real and beautiful. No matter how much I doubt myself now, I believe that when that moment comes, I will be ready.
Summary
This heartfelt letter reflects a mother’s journey of self-discovery and her hopes for her future children. She expresses her uncertainties about motherhood and her desire for companionship while acknowledging her own insecurities. Despite her fears, she is committed to learning and growing, ready to embrace the joys and challenges of parenthood.