Dear Future Daughter,
As I write this at 27, I find myself grappling with the reality of motherhood while still struggling with the basics, like changing a diaper. The world around us can feel overwhelming, filled with unexpected tragedies, broken dreams, and moments that seem to pile on the fear. I witness the chaos of life daily—neighbors arguing, friends battling illness, and children facing challenges I can hardly comprehend. It’s a gritty place, and I often wonder if it’s the right environment for a child.
I glance at a fading bouquet on my kitchen table, a gift from what might be your father, wilting because I forgot to refresh the water. My home is cluttered, and it’s clear that I’m still sorting out my own life. The thought of bringing you into this mess feels daunting.
Yet, imagining you brightens my heart. I can already envision the colors of your room and the middle name I’d choose for you. I dream of crafting your birth announcement and filling your life with love from far and wide. But the uncertainty of whether I’m ready for this responsibility weighs heavily on me.
My fear stems from my inadequacies. I worry about forgetting to change the flowers, missing soccer practices, and neglecting your needs. I envision showering you with compliments, maybe even 67 in one morning, as I revel in your presence. I’d encourage your creativity, letting you choose nail polish colors that spark joy, even if they clash with my own tastes. I’d even introduce you to dance before you could walk, though I fear you might inherit my struggles.
I often reflect on my own childhood, the hurtful words that shaped my perception of self-worth, and the unhealthy relationship I developed with food. I want to break that cycle for you. I envision a home where you can eat freely, where food is abundant and never forbidden, except for a few exceptions. I’d strive to create a nurturing environment, where your happiness comes from within, not dictated by society’s standards.
I promise to shield you from the negativity that plagued my youth. No fashion magazines would clutter our space, and I would never belittle myself in front of you, striving to instill a healthy self-image. But I fear that my failures may seep through the cracks, leaving you with burdens I never intended to pass on.
The thought of you growing up in a world rife with challenges is terrifying. I worry about the heartbreaks, the disappointments, and the harsh realities that await you. Your twenties might be filled with struggles, and I may not always be there to guide you through them.
Through my journey, I’ve learned an essential truth: true happiness must come from within. You cannot depend on others to make you feel whole. I realize that I must find my own peace before I can offer you the love you deserve. While I would love to be your mother and shower you with affection, I recognize the importance of being a whole person myself first.
I yearn to share in the joys of motherhood, from shopping for mascara to watching you grow and thrive. But the fear of failing you looms large. What if I’m not enough? What if my inadequacies overshadow our precious moments together?
Yet, despite all this uncertainty, I know there is one undeniable truth: I would love you fiercely. I envision your room painted in soothing turquoise and rich plum, named after my beloved grandmother. Though I’m hesitant, I can’t help but hold onto hope.
Your potential father often reminds me to make choices from love, not fear. And while it’s easier said than done, I’m writing this because I love you deeply. But perhaps it’s love that makes me hesitant to bring you into this chaotic world.
For now, I’ll hold onto this “maybe.” I have much to sort through, both mentally and physically, before I can commit to the idea of you. Until then, I ask for your forgiveness for any doubts that linger.
I love you already, and I hope that one day, we can share laughter and joy. I want to ensure that the world I bring you into is filled with love and opportunity. But until I’m ready, I’ll continue to contemplate this decision.
With all my love,
Mom (potentially)