Dear Son and/or Daughter, (both would be nice*wink wink*)
If you’re reading this, you just turned 18. Wow, time flies! It seems like yesterday you didn’t even exist and that’s because yesterday you didn’t actually exist. You see, as I write this, your existence is still far off in the hopeful future. And as much as I can’t wait to meet you, I’m okay with both of us taking our time.
I’m not married, I don’t know who your father is and I’m writing you this letter before you were born
Unorthodox? A little. Weird? Maybe. I assure you, people have done this before, so please don’t think your mom is crazy. I want you to know that, even without knowing who your Dad will be, what your name is or whether you’ll even exist in the future, I’m a 100% whole person as I sit here today. I’m not waiting for, nor expecting, you to complete me. I’ve had twenty+ years on this earth comprised of lofty dreams and concrete accomplishments. Missed opportunities and sheer, dumb luck. Friendship and sisterhood. Crippling disappointment and embarrassment so acute I thought I’d never recover. In short, there was a me before you.
Your mom has gotten her share of love letters😎(well…I only got two) with endearingly sappy signatures of a high school boyfriend and a college sweetheart.
Kiddo, I will be different when you come along. The bits that make up my core will be the same, but the second you’re born, I’ll shed my independence like a skin. What’s left will be a raw vulnerability that will simultaneously thrill, terrify and change me. Right now, I cherish my independence. It’s sacred. But I know that someday I’ll be ready to cherish you more.
It may seem odd to write to a son or daughter I don’t yet have, but I know becoming a parent will change me. Like Hannah, I have already given you back to God (1 Samuel 1:9-28). I pray God will take control and mold you into the person He sees fit. Fret not my child because every tear I will cry for you wont be of sorrow or pain, but tears of joy because with you in the perfect will of God, I have nothing to worry about.
This is my version of a love letter. To try to give you a glimpse of me before you in hopes that it strengthens whatever relationship we might have. I’m going to sign and date it, then put it in a sealed envelope with instructions to not open it until your 18th birthday.
Can’t wait to meet you.