Ramblings of a self confessed geek who really just wants to go live in a yurt with some chickens, a yak, a couple of goats, a crapload of friends and a bunch of mostly naked children running around like freaks.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Dear baby,
There are a few things you should know. The first of which is that my terror at the thought of your birth has NOTHING to do with who you are or who you could be. It is entirely wrapped up in what I fear I will be: not enough of a mom for two. I know on a very rational level that I can do this just fine; women far less than I have handled many more children without totally screwing it up and I know I can at least keep you alive. No, this fear doesn’t have anything to do with logic. Rather, this fear lives in my heart, a place big enough for you both but so afraid that I will not BE enough for you both. I already find motherhood difficult and while some tell me that having another is a piece of cake, another part of me believes the people that say, “yeah, well when was the last time you bothered to make a cake?”
I know it will be hard and I just fear that I will fail in some way; some way significant enough to make you feel like I wasn’t good enough; some way that will make you roll your eyes when speaking about me to a lover or admit, “she did the best she could with what she had” to a friend. I grew up wanting nothing more than to be a mommy and now that I am one I sometimes fear I have made a huge mistake and that I should have left this to someone who knows what the hell they are doing. But this, you may discover, is the fear of every parent at one time or another. We all wonder if we are good enough, smart enough, strong enough to bring you to adulthood without completely fucking you up. I never see that fear in your dad and that intimidates the hell out of me. I know it has to be there every once in a while, but since I cannot see it, I sometimes just believe he is better at all this than me and that maybe, just maybe, you children would be much better in his care with me living in some remote, yet unthreatening place in the wilds.
I guess this leads to my second point: pregnant ladies are crazy. Just keep that in mind.
You also need to know how very deeply you are wanted, loved and needed. You need to know that you will always be wanted, loved and needed. Nothing you could do or say will ever change that. Please don’t test the theory too much, just trust me on this. A parents capacity for love is insane and there is nothing you could do to dissolve it. So sit down, shut up and be good, dammit; I’m tired and don’t want to play that game.
What else do you need to know? Someday, ask your daddy if he loves you more than pockets. Ask me why the sky is blue. Don’t forget to say: “Guess what? CHICKEN BUTT” as often as possible. Open your eyes under water. Dance naked in the moonlight around a fire at least once in your life. Be respectful of others and work for what you have. If you’re going to drink too much on your 21st birthday, make sure someone is there to take care of you and doodle on your face while you sleep it off. It’s only a job, never be afraid to walk away if they don’t respect you for who you are. S/he is only a lover, never be afraid to walk away if they don’t respect you for who you are. They say laughter is the best medicine: don’t forget to drink the whole bottle every once in a while. When you become a parent, reread all of this blog and wipe that cocky grin off your face. You may be able to do it better but you will never be able to do it with more love.
I love you, kid. Come soon, we can’t wait to hold you.
Love,
Mama