Dear Unseen Son and Dreamed-of Daughter,
Let’s get straight to the point: I’m not entirely sure I’m ready for this parenting journey. I distinctly remember learning about where babies come from as a kid and telling my mom, “There’s no way I’m pushing a watermelon out of my body!” She chuckled as if to say, “You’ll feel differently when you’re older.” Well, here I am at 32, and so far, I haven’t changed my mind.
The truth is, I’m reaching out to you because, someday—when I’m your mom’s age—I want to have grown-up children. I envision myself at a table with you both, celebrating my birthday as you serve me cake, insisting I look a decade younger than I am. I dream of Sunday brunches with you, Daughter, where I see my quirks mirrored in you. And, Son, I hope you’ll lend a hand planting flowers in our front yard because, let’s be honest, I can’t keep a plant alive, but I long for beauty around me.
Future Me is already in love with you both, embracing our shared journey like a cozy old chair. Future Me has gracefully embraced grey hair, channeling the elegance of Ellen Burstyn, with a wardrobe that’s a mix of Diane Keaton and a voice that resonates like Kathleen Turner. She’s confident that welcoming you into our lives was the right choice. But Present Me? Well, she’s still figuring it out. I hope you can forgive both of us for that.
I know that to bring you into this world, I need a partner—someone to lean on without fear of falling. I lack that innate maternal instinct that seems to be a given for many, and I worry that without someone with a strong “daddy gene,” I may struggle to cultivate that nurturing spirit. I’m hopeful that I will find that person, though some days are better than others.
Despite my love for routine and the stability of my life, I often feel a restless longing. I once drove to Canada on a whim and have had moments where I overfed the cat and didn’t return home for hours. I often find joy in solitude—reading, writing, or simply floating through a sea of melancholy. It’s a selfish existence that I admit I enjoy.
I know surrendering that solitude will be challenging. I’m not ready to share my mental space with your needs and wishes. You deserve a mother who is fully present, and I promise I’ll evolve into that, but I might falter. I might forget that once you’re here, my life isn’t just my own anymore. Please forgive me for those moments when I struggle.
I apologize that I’m not ready for you yet. I’m sorry for being single and bored with my life, for feeling as though my maternal instincts are barely clicking into gear. I know that after you arrive, it may take time for me to adjust. I’ll have to navigate my own moods, jealousy, and impatience while also trying to be the mom you deserve.
While Future Me has a clear vision for our lives together, Present Me is still learning. I promise to give it my all, even on days when my best feels inadequate. There will be joyful moments, and I will teach you about love, laughter, and forgiveness. Together, we’ll tackle bullies, emotional struggles, and everything in between.
As I write this letter, it feels like a critique of myself more than a note to you. I often feel that so many others excel at things I struggle with, and I’ll have to remind myself that everyone has their own strengths. I should take my own advice, which I’d give to you: comparison steals joy. Just be yourself and embrace your uniqueness—you are more than what the universe ever dreamed of.
There will be days when I may not stay on task, and I might forget to be patient. I promise to share my skills with you, whether it’s making a delicious stone soup or teaching you the art of budget-friendly home decor. We’ll master everything from knitting to navigating social situations, all while remembering the beauty of reading, listening, and being honest with ourselves.
It won’t always be perfect or fun. We will face challenges and, in our attempts to fix things, might even make them worse. But one day, I believe that you will be creating wonderful dishes, planting flowers, and the past and future will unite, bringing us together as a family. And despite my current doubts, I know I will be ready for that moment.
Summary:
This heartfelt letter to my imaginary children expresses the hopes, fears, and dreams of a future mother who is not yet prepared for the responsibilities of parenthood. It embraces the journey of self-discovery while acknowledging the need for a supportive partner. Ultimately, it paints a picture of love, growth, and the joy of nurturing as they navigate life’s challenges together.