Letter to my un-conceived child
By Arley Hoskin
I’ve entered a stage in my life where the thought of having a child excites me more than it frightens me. Crazy, I know.
I have so much I want to share with my children, if I should ever be blessed enough to have some. I worry sometimes that all of this wisdom I have gleaned from my 20s will be forgotten when I am in my 30s and start having children. (I’ve heard pregnancy can make you forgetful.)
So, I decided to write a letter to my un-conceived child.
Dear future baby girl (or boy),
As you will soon find out, your father decided to embrace his inner-artistic side and married a writer. What was he thinking?! The truth is sometimes love can be irrational. I hope that someday you find the same kind of love that I stumbled into with your dad. You were conceived out of that love. (I’ll spare you the details of the actual conception.)
It’s important to me that you know your father and I love each other, we love God and we love you. There are two other things that you must always, always remember. One, you are loved. And two, there is more to this existence than you will ever comprehend. If you are in search of that “something more,” you are on the right path.
There are some other things I want to share with you that you will likely dismiss, but these items are important none-the-less:
Do not try to be popular. I know the genes stalk you came from, and trust me, it’s not going to work out for you. You are beautiful, brilliant, sensitive and mature beyond your years. Those qualities do not translate to popularity in high school. Do not be discouraged if your classmates don’t give a shit about the social justice issues you are passionate about. You’ll finds friends who do. Cling to them.
Remember, the guys who are nerdy and smart in high school end up marrying the hot girl (or guy*) after college. And when I say after college, give yourself a good five years of early-to-mid-20s fun before you enter in to this domestic bliss. Trust me, you will thank me for this advice.
Life is too short to try to be something you are not.
This life is a journey, not a destination. And wherever you are on this journey, you are loved.
It is with great joy that I write this letter,
Your someday future mom.
*I am optimistic that by the time my child reads this letter we will have achieved marriage equality in this country.