Dear Geoffrey,
It's been a long time coming. I wouldn't want you to grow up and wonder why your aspiring author mother never wrote you anything, so I promised myself I would write you something when you're six months old. It's hard - impossible, really - to put into words all I feel about you, but here goes.
As I write this, you're sleeping beside me, one hand resting on my arm, in a bed that's too small for two adults and a baby, who all seem to have sleeping disorders. Today you turned six months. Today is also the first anniversary of the day I first saw you in an ultrasound, a little jellybean chilling in my belly. Before that day, when I first knew you existed, I loved you. It wasn't easy. I was in love with your father, but things were still uncertain, unplanned, but I loved you, and I knew that I could not live this life if I did not accept you into this world wholeheartedly. That day, one year ago, I knew it would be worth it. And on 31st January at 9:07pm, it really was all worth it. Even now, as I look at your eyelashes dusting your rosy cheeks, your chubby little hands gripping the blankets, your pursed lips, as I listen to the sound of your breathing, I cannot believe how lucky I am to have you here.
As I write this, you're sleeping beside me, one hand resting on my arm, in a bed that's too small for two adults and a baby, who all seem to have sleeping disorders. Today you turned six months. Today is also the first anniversary of the day I first saw you in an ultrasound, a little jellybean chilling in my belly. Before that day, when I first knew you existed, I loved you. It wasn't easy. I was in love with your father, but things were still uncertain, unplanned, but I loved you, and I knew that I could not live this life if I did not accept you into this world wholeheartedly. That day, one year ago, I knew it would be worth it. And on 31st January at 9:07pm, it really was all worth it. Even now, as I look at your eyelashes dusting your rosy cheeks, your chubby little hands gripping the blankets, your pursed lips, as I listen to the sound of your breathing, I cannot believe how lucky I am to have you here.
Mothers have the strange position of being both overrated and underrated. The role that a mother, or perhaps, more correctly in this day and age, a stay-at-home parent of either gender, is often a thankless job, and the contributions you make as one are seriously undervalued. And yet no matter how shitty, how awful and abusive a parent may be, there will still be people who will say hey, she's your mother, you have to give in to her. And I don't believe in either of those extremes. Being a parent is tough. Having everything you do produce results in someone else's life is a huge responsibility to have, but I don't think I deserve any accolades for merely bringing you into this world. I don't think I deserve any praise for trying to be a better person for you, because that's just what I'm supposed to do. That's what you do when you love someone. Even when it's uncomfortable, when it's inconvenient, you still give the best you can, because you don't matter as much as they do. Being a parent has always been portrayed to me as a sacrifice. To me, it has been a gift. You are a gift, and I will never stop being grateful that you came into my life and made me realise there were depths of my heart I had never even knew existed, much less explored.
That being said, I'm not a perfect parent, nor a perfect person. I have made mistakes, will make mistakes, and I am sorry. Every day I try to improve, but it doesn't always work out the way I want it to. The same goes for the world. I wish it was a better place for you to grow up, but even if it's not, I'll sure as hell try to make your world a decent one. And as you grow I hope to instil in you the understanding of what truly matters in life. All my life I've been a chameleon, changing myself to make everyone around me happy with me, and the person I've hurt most is myself.
As you grow up, I hope you find you. I hope you grow to look in the mirror every day and are happy with the person you see, but never stop striving to be even better than that. I hope you live your life as far as possible from material pursuits, because there will be many of those. People will judge you for how much money you make, the house you live in, the car you drive, the clothes you wear. Those things are nice, but they are not the things you will be remembered for. We are more than our appearances and our possessions. We are hearts and minds, and the footprints we leave on the lives of those whom we love and love us in return will matter more at the end of our days than the footholds we have on the unending ladder of material success we're expected to climb.
When you're old enough to read this, I hope you know that I mean never to hurt you, that I love you and will always love you. No matter what you do, what you become, where you go. The past six months have given me the best moments of my life, and it's all because of you. I cannot express how much I love being your mother. From waking up to see your cheeky, smiling face every day, to watching as you fall asleep every night, from doing the stupidest and most random things to make you laugh, to comforting you as best I can when you cry, from holding you close and sniffing your sweet baby scent, even to changing your stinky poopy overflowing diapers - I love it all, because I love you, and you are my everything, the breath of my life and the blood in my veins. Your joy is my happiness, your sadness my sorrow, and my heart will be yours for all of my days.
Go forth and be awesome, little buddy.
first!
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