I’ve thought about how I’d start this hundreds of times.

I considered settling on, Hi, Baby. Or, Dear, Babe. Or, just, FOH.

But all those seemed … too unnatural. So here I am, here we are, since you are here with me and I decided, to hell with it, I’ll just write it as I hear it.

You can probably tell that your Mama already over thinks way too many things. Just one of those things that makes me me. I figure you should know that now. You probably do, all this time you’ve spent with me now and heck, even probably, prior to.

I’ve wanted to write you for months now. Since August 17th, to be exact. But I couldn’t. I don’t know if I couldn’t face it or wasn’t ready or was still trying to figure out what to say to you. But I’m here now. With some important things I want you to know and never ever doubt from me. Things that I need to remember to say to you now before you’re here and I {or anyone else} try to assert too many of my own ideas on you, without even realizing that’s what I’m doing.

It’s true, baby, we weren’t planning on you. You were not on my radar. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted kids. You were a far off conversation in the future. A maybe one day.

Five months before I found out about you, the signs were all there. The People and God knew — they first told me about you. I felt them, I felt you, during my quiet moments of meditation.

It put me on high alert, because of all the things at all the times, I just didn’t think I could do a baby. I didn’t want to.

This is nothing against you — I just want to be clear so my words, especially on so public of a platform, can never be used against me nor twisted around to hurt us. Humans, as you’ll see, can be really good at doing that.

And it’s true, baby, that when I did find out about you, I cried. Hysterically. I was not joyful. There was no cloud nine elation. There was pure fear and anxiety.

I wasn’t crying because I didn’t want you. I wasn’t scared because I didn’t want you. I was one hot burning mess that afternoon because I didn’t know how I would ever — ever — be good enough for you, and that was the single most terrifying feeling I have experienced.

It’s one thing to feel you might never be good enough to friends and even family … but your child, your own child? Doesn’t even come close. You are in your own category that no one can touch or come close to … a living, breathing extension of me. And I truly cannot think of anything more beautiful and more profound than that Truth.

As I sat there, slumped up against the bathroom door, trying to catch my breath between heavy sobs, I had to question why you chose me and why it had to be me. I felt guilty. I thought of wonderful friends who would give anything to see those two lines, all the People who were so much more deserving of you than me.

I questioned if I could do this and how. How to even bring a life into this world? So many questions. More fear. More uncertainty. Heightened anxiety.

I spent a lot of time sitting in silence. I could hear God. That you were and are part of The Plan. I thought I could hear you too, in those moments of silence … to trust you.

When I first saw you at nine weeks old and heard your little heart beating, I was overcome — and surprised — with emotion. This outpouring of love that I had never felt before. The reality of you set in and I promised I’d try to give you the best of myself, at all times.

I know there are going to be plenty of pretty days ahead for us, but it’s the not so pretty ones I need you to remember that I’m still trying to give you the best of me. Our best is constantly in flux, based on so many factors, like how we feel — you remember that too when you’re having a particularly hard day.

I have no Earthly idea who you will be and what you will be like. And considering I called you Emma Charlotte for months {truth – I thought you were a girl, sorry about that} I want you to know that whoever you are and whatever you do, I love you.

Unconditionally.

There is nothing you will be able to do that will ever stop or keep me from loving you. Nothing. So don’t worry about losing my love. You can’t. It’s yours indefinitely.

I have no Earthly idea if you’ll be good at sports or school or music and arts, or even if you’ll be gay. And I don’t care. I don’t care about most of the things our society says to care about. I’m not saying they’re not important — you should want to do well for yourself and always strive to give of your best — but I am much much more concerned with how you are as a human being.

I care about love and kindness, because, baby that is what will and is changing this world. How we treat each other matters in every single action. We have a responsibility to one another to do the right thing, to take care of each other. Remember that.

I have no Earthly idea if I’ll be at all interested in your interests. Yes, I’m sure I’ll take some sort of interest but who knows if it’s something I myself actually do or will enjoy, like yoga. I don’t care what you pursue as long as it brings you joy and makes you come alive. Granted, porn would be a hard pill for me to swallow, but hey — I promise I’ll at least be open minded enough. To hell with anyone who judges what you do. They simply do not matter. No one can tell you how to live your life but you.

I want you to always place yourself first. Some might call you selfish for this, go ahead and let them. The truth is, if you don’t put your Self first, who will? And how will you ever be happy? Only you make you happy. Do not seek that happiness outside yourself. You’re not going to find it. You won’t find it from me or our family. Nor do I expect you to make me happy.

Speaking of happiness … try not to do things just to appease your father and me. We, just like you, are responsible for our own happiness. This will probably be challenging for me at some point, because I’m bound to hold certain beliefs that might contradict yours or what you’re wanting to do. You might feel like you should do one thing because it’s what we want. Don’t do it — you do you.

I hope you challenge me. Piss me off. Stay true to you. I’ll get over it.

I don’t think I’m the one here to teach you. At all. You’re here to teach me. I feel your wise, old spirit and I will try to remember that you have your own answers and that if I can just stay out of the way, and let you be your naturally joyful self {as all children are}, things will be just fine.

This is going to be tricky, too. Because as a Mother and adult, I’ll feel like you’re too little, too small, too young to have the answers. Then I’ll re-read this and remember that you have arrived here with your own inner knowledge system and People to guide you.

My job is to support you and to remind you that you do know. To encourage all those things you find your joy in. In doing that, I’m hoping we can help to keep each other in check.

Really, my sole goal is very simple — it’s joy. I want us to be joyful and look for that joy in all we both do. If we can get joy down, we’ll be able to make it through anything.

I love you I love you I love you times infinity and then some. Thank you for being my greatest creation.