A Letter to My Future Child(ren)

Dear Future Child/Children,

I’m going to go ahead and apologise first off. With my intense nerdiness, odds are that you’re named after a fictional book character. Depending on who your father is and if he’s as awesome as me, then you’re probably named after a character from Harry Potter. Actually, if that’s the case, I don’t apologise. I’m sure that I’ve read the books to you enough times that you realise it’s an honour to share a name with one of them. In fact, come to think of it, I take back my apology.

I have no idea how far down the road it will be before I have kids, although I’m hoping that someday you will actually exist. It would be a wonder, really. When I was a kid, I had all these dreams of having a huge family. Then I became an adult, learned about childbearing and labour, and I started to feel leery. I was less enthusiastic but I still wanted a family.

Then I met this guy. He was charming and funny and obnoxious and completely insufferable. I fell in love. And remarkably, somehow he loved me back. We lived and loved and laughed and started making plans. We talked about getting married and having children and settling down. And for three brief weeks, it seemed like those plans might be coming to fruition a bit sooner than we expected.

And then it all fell apart. The family, the plans, the relationship.

So after being so close to everything I had wanted since I was a kid, I found myself broken, disheartened, and alone. A visit to a doctor told me that my chances were slim and deteriorating, so I began to change my plans. I started focusing on other things. School, my career, and myself. Ideas of marriage and children and family were pushed to the back burner. I’ve reached a point where I actually have a hard time imagining that future anymore, because there are just so many things that are easier to do and require less commitment – something of which I can admit to being a little afraid.

But there will always be a part of me that wants to be a mother, no matter how it happens. So it is a wonderful, pure pleasure to meet you.

I hope you’re happy and healthy; that you have a good life and we have a good relationship. I had a great relationship with my mom, still do by the time you read this hopefully, and it was pivotal in making me who I am. It was good to have someone to always talk to, someone who I knew would absolutely always be there for me no matter what I did. She was always there, every day, waiting expectantly for me to come home from school and tell her about every banal detail of my day. It was comforting. Familiar. I will never take for granted just how glorious those days were.

I want you to know that I am proud of you. I don’t care who or what you are, if you’re tall or short or gay or artistic or sporty or a collector of bugs. I’m still proud of you. Because I’m your mom, and that’s my job. No matter what happens, I want you to be whatever you are. I know there will be times that you hate me, especially once you hit that teen angst stage, but you should know I will always be your mother and I will always love you.

I really do hope I pick a normal name for you, at least not something mental like Albus Severus. And I hope I don’t mess you up too badly, damage your brain with too much of my nerdiness.

And it may be years down the road still, but I can’t wait to meet you.

Love always,

Your Future Mom

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