babyface

by Niki Sophia

Dear future child,

I have been thinking about you, and about me and how I would like you to grow up as free and accompanied by your own choices as possible.
How can I raise you without being possessive? Without owning you.
When I say possessive I think about how a parent has so much control over their child, more precisely how my parents had so much control over me.

Now, here I am, writing this letter not even knowing if I will ever be a parent.
I feel it so heavily. What if I decide to place you in this world, there is a big responsibility.
I am afraid that even though this is my thought now, I will forget it and the fears of something happening to you will take over.

This is why I am writing this letter to you,
I want to make sure my thoughts are here
and they will still exist forever for you to read.

Your needs are never stupid, and the other’s needs are never stupid either.
It’s difficult to create a space in which you feel safe to say how you feel.

I wonder, what is real adult life?
I have all already been decided for you.
“So you can either be this, this or this.
Good luck in life.” I don’t want that for you.
There’s no adventure, no excitement.
There’s no room for you to use your imagination.
I want you to have the freedom to come up with something out of your own pure self.

Oh, my child.
You will go through so much.
Life is not fun (this is what my mother always told me)

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I am writing this to protect you. How ironic.
How do I end this? You’re not here, does it mean it’s an open ending? I like that.
A story that still needs to happen. Or maybe a story that will never happen.
This is a never ending love letter for you, not yet existing, human being.

Oh and just so you know, this was written in 2020.

Love, your possible future mama.