A note to sir or madam fetus:

Hello down there. I would read this out loud to you but you are still just a little alien and your ears aren’t quite looking like ears yet, and you cannot yet hear sound. Don’t fret, you can read this for yourself someday and be embarrassed about my mushiness then. I’m not yet a mother, and I have no idea what I’ll feel like on this day next year when you are an actual, smelly little hobbit bopping around with us. Probably tired. For now I am a mother in training, and I am hoping that my job functioning as a safe, warm, oven for you to cook in is being performed adequately.

I’m reading the books, and learning about your development, and snacking on vitamins, and not letting the cat pounce on my stomach anymore. I read that your legs and arms are starting to even out in proportion to your enormous noggin, and I know that you can punch and kick and work yourself into a little dance routine in there because I can hear all that racket over the doppler. You are too miniature for me to feel any of this madness yet, and for that I thank you. You now weigh 1.5 ounces… which makes absolute sense since I seem to have gained 6 pounds, which in the metric system I’m pretty sure is 1.5 ounces. Good work! I also read that you are growing a furry little covering of fuzz all over your body, which I think is totally weird but apparently this is a good thing, so way to go! Please consider shedding that before your big debut on earth because we already have a little hair problem at the house with your rude brother and sister the animals. You too will get used to picking dog and cat hair out of every other bite of food you eat, and leaving the house rocking this look:

You are getting fed a ton of fruits and vegetables, heaps of protein, buckets of water, and only a smattering of  Cheetos, Doritos, burritos, Tostitos, and Fritos. I have learned recently, however, that our old friend Stroopwafel can be found right here in the land of the free, and for that I apologize to our subsequent blood sugar. I am getting a very reasonable 16 hours a day of sleep for you, taking long walks on the beach with you, no longer checking out what Sharpies smell like, and not even missing the IPAs I bid adieu to when I found out you were a little speck inside of me. Also, I officially did not give you Zika. So add that to the list of things you won’t be able to hold against me when you are old enough to tell me I’m ruining your life.

Because here’s the thing kid, I’m pretty sure I am going to ruin your life. I’ve got no clue what I’m doing, and don’t tell your dad, but I’m fairly certain that watching the series Friends a dozen times and knowing how numbers work doesn’t exactly make him the most qualified in the parental department either. We are going to do all sorts of stuff wrong. People, most of them who are already parents, are already sharing their opinions with us about what will be best for you… and how would they know?! They haven’t even met you yet. Lecturing us about breastfeeding and vaccinations, co-sleeping and baptisms, baby-wearing and kangaroo-ing and naked time, c-sections vs. vaginal deliveries, avoiding lunch meat and meth, work/life balance, the dog not being a qualified babysitter, cloth vs. disposable, etc. Informing us we absolutely need to find out what sort of reproductive bits you’re rocking or we won’t be able to plan for you appropriately… what is this, a bathroom in North Carolina?

There is no way for us to know what will be best for you, what will give you the best shot at turning out to be a decent human being who keeps their nose clean, pays their taxes, helps the less fortunate, doesn’t murder people, is kind to animals and waiters, cares about the environment, puts others above them self, tips their bartenders, respects their elders, and isn’t a racist, homophobic, discriminating asshole. What I can promise you is that we are going to try our absolute best, to be the absolute best for you. To give you everything you need, but try to help you learn to stay humble. Because despite what some people in your life will try to lead you to believe, money isn’t everything, and can definitely not buy you happiness, a more fulfilling life, or morality. I can’t promise you that we will do everything, or even anything by the book. There will be days when we don’t get out of our pajamas. You will most definitely listen to Lil Dicky and Chamillionaire in your nursery. My potty mouth will probably get the better of me more often than I would like to admit when you’re within earshot. You’re going to get an incredibly graphic and cautionary tale about sexually transmitted infections at a very young age. Some nights we will probably eat potato chips for dinner. Just potato chips. Mommy speeds. Daddy likes violent movies. We both occasionally jaywalk. I can’t promise you perfection, little sea urchin, it’s just not going to happen.

But I can promise you that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, that I have been working on my courage to do things like investigate the noises of the creatures of the night so that when you are scared I can be there to protect you. I can promise you that I will never give up on you, no matter how hard you push me away or how far I have to chase after you. I can promise you that I will do all that I can to make sure you know just how much you are loved, and no matter where life takes us, one thing you will never have to worry about is wondering if you are enough or not. You are definitely enough. Even in your current aquatic state, tadpole, you are enough. Thanks for sticking around so far, and letting us grow so fond of you. There is so much more to come!

Love from above,

Your mother in training

 

Happy Mother’s Day to all the mamas and mother figures in my life. To my mom, grandmothers, many aunties, mother in law, mothers of friends, friends who are mothers, animal moms, and moms-to-be I know – thank you for providing me and so many others with your amazing examples of parenting and unconditional love!