Dear Child,
I’ve brought you home from the hospital and you are the most precious thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t believe you’re mine. I can’t believe how much I love you. I can’t believe you came out of me! Really, that’s so weird but magical and amazing at the same time. Perhaps one day, you’ll understand.
I’ve decided to start writing letters to you because I honestly have no idea what I’m doing and what our life is going to be like. And that scares me. But also, I hold quite a bit of anger at my parents for things they did and didn’t do for me, and I want to do my very best to ensure that I don’t make the same mistakes. Of course, not making any mistakes is impossible so, I’ve decided to chronicle as much as I can in these letters in hopes that any anger, resentment or confusion you may hold toward me, can be explained. It’s entirely possible my explanations still won’t soothe or comfort you, but hopefully it can be the first step on the path to forgiveness and understanding.
You’re literally three days old and I’m already worrying about your adulthood. I can already picture you being mad at me at a family gathering years from now, when you’re twenty-three years old, introducing me to your first serious partner, yelling at me for something I did or didn’t do when you were seven! How wild is that? This parenting thing is crazy! Maybe my parents weren't so bad after all?
You’re sleeping in the laundry basket right now. You’re quiet, peaceful and so cute. A part of me wishes you could stay this way forever - simple, innocent, sweet - where the only pain or discomfort you feel is the pain of hunger and the discomfort of a wet diaper. But that’s not realistic. That’s not going to happen. You’re going to grow. You’re going to become mobile. You’re going to become an individual with thoughts and feelings you can communicate. And my job is to help you get there safely in every way.
Why did I think I could do this at nineteen years old? Why did I think I could do it alone? Because let’s be honest, your dad isn’t going to help me. He’s not a bad person. He wants to, but he won't.
I’m scared, child. I’ve brought you home from the hospital and you are the most precious thing I’ve ever seen, and I’m responsible for you. I promise I will do my best. I don’t know what that looks like, but I will do my absolute best to be the best parent you’ve ever seen or heard of.
I love you
Mom
Ⓒ March 2020. Beki Lantos. All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted in any form by any means without prior written permission of the author.
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