I've been thinking it might be nice to write down some of my thoughts about my impending motherhood, in the form of letters to my son. I don't know whether I'll ever have the guts to actually give these letters to him someday, but I think at least it will help me sort out some of the confusion I feel about being a new mom. Anyway, here goes.
Dear N-,
The thing most people don't tell you about your parents when you're young is that they're imperfect. Nobody is perfect, of course, but when you grow up hearing things like "Mother knows best" and "Listen to your father" and so forth, you often don't question it. It just seems like a given that your mother and father would automatically know what's best for you, and that you should listen and obey.
But I will be your mother... no, I am already your mother. As of today, I have carried you in my belly for over 7 months, have made choices to protect you, have made sacrifices for you. And let me say that I'm not confident that I will always know what's best for you. In fact, I dare say that I definitely won't always know what's best for you. But please know that I will always want what's best for you, and will be making decisions for the rest of my life based on that desire to give you a great life.
Your father and I are definitely not perfect. We've made some decisions that, while one couldn't say they were bad decisions, certainly haven't resulted how we had planned or hoped. Though, on the surface, we're practical people who see the world realistically, we are idealistic dreamers at heart. For some time now, we have been planning out how we want to raise you, in hopes that you will become an intelligent, practical, well-adjusted man with integrity. How you turn out, however, is largely determined by luck and what kind of person you are at your core. While we might be able to guess what traits you might inherit from either one of us, you will be an individual that is quite different either your father or me.
I'm not sure what my point is. You'll find this out about me in time - your mother is a rambler. I guess I'm providing a disclaimer. Sam and I don't know what we're doing. We're stumbling through life as best we can, much like you will someday. We've learned lessons from our mistakes and failures, but whether those lessons can be applied to your life and imparted to you has yet to be seen. Maybe our insights will apply to your life, maybe they won't. Maybe our decisions will make your life better, maybe they won't. That unknown is terrifying to me. I want to be a good parent. I want to do what's best for you. But I'm going into this parenting thing with only the vaguest idea of what it might be like. So much of it will be new and unpredictable and unknowable, and if I've been stumbling through life before now, I'll be even more stumbly as a parent. (By the way, "stumbly" isn't a word. Don't use it in formal writing or conversations.)
But I think Sam will be a wonderful father. And he says I'll be a good mother too. Despite the fact that we have very little money and no home of our own, despite the fact that I don't have a job and your father only has a part time one... you're coming into the world with at least some advantage. You have two parents who are utterly dedicated to you. We promise to do our best to provide for you - physically, mentally, and emotionally. Always.
Love,
Your mother
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