Dear future lights of my life,
I am writing this letter now so that no matter what happens I can, hopefully, remember what it is I meant to accomplish by committing to the act of having children. (Which, shocking though it may be to some of you who I *know* read this, I do plan to do by the age of 30, no later than 32).
Liz’s mom says that we don’t make the same mistakes our parents did, we make different ones. That sticks with me, and I’m writing this collect my thoughts because I hope it will help alleviate some of the pain I am feeling now. I watched my family fall apart, slowly and painfully, and I watched every member of it give up on us at some point, which, for a child (even a grown one) is one of the most painful things imaginable. There is damage done to me that I believe is permanent, that can never be undone and that I will have to live with forever - but at least I can channel it into self-awareness as a human being and a mother, and it can have some positive impact on the world. It’s comforting that my own wounds can come to some good.
Everyone says parenting is hard, that nobody knows how to do it, that it’s terrifying, and all of the things I think they kind of fabricate both as a mix to keep teenagers from doing it and to justify their own mistakes. As I look down my own road to that eventuality, I see it quite differently. It seems that I know, if not exactly how to do it, then exactly how not to do it. And that’s something. So here I’ve written something - I call it a letter but it’s more a collection of promises to you, to my children who are not even ideas yet, whose shapes have not even begun to form in the mind of the universe yet - because I need to know that I can always have this to look back on, with you one day, and make sure I am keeping all my silent promises to you.
Liz and I have talked about this, and you can assume that these statements are “we” statements just as much as they are “I” statements.
I promise that, no matter what, you will never have to wonder if I love you. I promise you that I will never make you wonder if I will be there from one day to the next, or how long I will be sticking around this time. I promise to raise you with love, humor, kindness, and patience. I promise you that whatever happens between your mother and I, you will never believe it could have been your fault. I promise you that I will always be your mother and you will always be my child, even when you are 50 years old, and I will never expect you to take care of me emotionally. I promise that you will never have to spend time covering my mistakes. I promise that the safest place in your life will be our home, for as long as there is breath in my body to make it that way.
I promise to tell you that you are beautiful because I have not seen you yet but I know you are the most beautiful human being God Himself ever conceived of. I promise I will not let you forget that even when you are in high school and kids are awful. I promise that I will never berate, belittle, or ridicule your dreams. I promise you that your mother and I will do everything we can to make those dreams within reach for you, and teach you how to get to them. We will encourage you no matter what, and praise you enthusiastically for every small success, even if your choices are not what we would have chosen ourselves. I promise you that I will remember that, no matter how small you are, from the moment you learn to speak you have a voice, an opinion, and a personality that is valid and unique, and I will treat you accordingly. I promise that I will never get so wrapped up in my own troubles that I can’t see yours; I will never be too far away to talk to, and I will always do my best to understand what is going on in your life.
I promise you unconditional love. I promise to believe in you without compromise. I promise to be completely in awe of your talents, which will be different than mine and which I may not understand, but which I promise to see as valuable, important, and valid. I promise that no matter who you bring home, I will still love you just as much. I promise that no matter what you do, I will still love you just as much. I promise that I will always remember that I am the adult, that you are the child, and I will not blame you for my own mistakes.
I can’t promise you that you will somehow escape childhood without pain, or that your mother and I will never fight, or even that things will not change in our family. But I can promise you that whatever happens, I will lay down my life to keep you safe as best I can. I promise you that even if the world ends and your mother and I split up, we will do our best to see past our pain and be adult enough to be civil when you are involved, because our love for you is one thing we will always have in common.
I promise you that even though we may not have much, you will always be comfortable and taken care of. I promise that even if we have next to nothing, your mother and I will have been financially responsible enough to save money, so you can be well-educated and go to the college you want to go to. I promise that I will never use money or privilege as emotional blackmail. I promise that your mother and I will teach you, through knowledge and through example, financial responsibility from a young age so that you will not find yourself in trouble when you leave home. I promise I will never ‘cut you off.’
I promise that, no matter what happens, no matter how bad things get, the vow your mother and I are going to swear before God and before our families is something I value at the same level as life itself and I will fight for it and I will never give up on it, I will stay and fight, and I will fight until there is no strength left in my body; I promise you that you will never have to watch your parents give up on your family.
I can’t promise you that life will be happy. I can’t promise you that you will have no pain. I can’t promise that I will not hurt you or make mistakes. I can promise that I will. But you will never, ever, ever, have to wonder if I love you.
