My dearest child,
You are too young to understand, and having children may not be on your mind. But I had this discussion with my friends not long ago, and it has haunted me for days. I enjoy many things about being a mother; I love to hear you laugh, play, and be happy, have cuddle sessions with you and teach you new things. I do not enjoy my lack of sleep when you are sick, and I can't help you when you get injured, and I have to wait hours in the emergency room to make sure you are okay. Having children, as fulfilling as it is, takes work. You don't usually pop a baby out and get suddenly wrapped in this overwhelming motherly instinct. You don't pull patience out of thin air and become the best mother in the world just by having a child. I wish!
Still, I am as tired as can be, and I have also achieved a new level of happiness that I didn't know existed until you came along.
My friend said having a baby is expensive; the medical bills, the new baby gear you need, the clothes, the schooling ... it is pricey. Although you can make it as costly as it can be, in reality, babies don't need much; they need a few sleepers, a crib, diapers, and a boob full of milk or formula; basically, all the other stuff is extra. Besides, you can't put a price on the miracle of life; there are so many couples that can't have children that would give anything to have a baby, so worrying about the crib and the fancy private school won't cut it. I know we live in a snobbish world, but the happiest kid is not the wealthiest kid; it is the one who is loved and whose parents were there to witness it all. The fancy stuff won't help you with the sleepless nights; your partner or family will, though. Your mother will assure you this is only temporary and that you will learn to read all of your baby's cues. She will remind you that they grow up fast and savour every moment. Still, you won't believe her because you are too tired and sad remembering the old you and your old life (where everything was easier) and because it is tough to make much sense of your life's current demands. It is all true; you are 18 months old now, and I can't believe you were once a helpless little baby. Your partner will take the second shift of everything and do so with so much love, all the poop, crying, and hormonal moods of mommy. He will remind you that you are still beautiful and do a good job, although you won't believe him.
Motherhood is about learning to live with a constant feeling of failure and guilt; that you are doing enough, that you are not there enough (if you are a working mom like me), that there is something wrong, that you could be more tolerant, more patient, more everything, more of a superhero kinda mom.
Before I had you, there were a few things that defined what I am when explaining myself to people; a woman, first of all, a woman with hormones, passionate, guided by her feelings, empathetic, feminine, loves to makeup and shoes, cries in movies, loves pink, kinda woman. A writer, creative, thinks of stories, overdramatic, daydreams, and kinda writer. I was and still am many things, too; strong, stubborn, caring, Mexican (Latin telenovela drama), outgoing, a friend, a daughter, a wife, a sister, etc. Now, I am a mother before anything else. Motherhood has overruled everything I was. I always think about you; my decision-making process puts you and your well-being ahead.
I am discovering that being a parent is not (nor should it be) for everyone. Kids should never be a requirement for a normal life; they are now things to check off a list, and they should always be a conscious choice; even if you never intended to get pregnant, once you are, it is all a choice; if you choose to not drink alcohol during the pregnancy, to have prenatal vitamins, to exercise, etc. Once they are here, you can't deny their existence. They are here, and they need you; they need you to step up. You rapidly switch from a pampered position to a responsible, get-your-shit-together position, and it can be quite scary, but if you love your kids (and you really want to become a parent), you will strive to be better every day. Kids teach you to be selfless; they teach you how to live again. I have learned that everything we do in our everyday lives was once a milestone; talking, walking, grabbing a pencil, jumping, smiling, reacting to someone's voice, it was all something you did for the first time a long time ago, and it was celebrating like the greatest thing on Earth, as it should because everything we do is entirely an accomplishment. I have learned that you mould your little angel's mind to become the best person they can be; you have all the power. It is a huge responsibility but also quite an exciting challenge. I want you to grow up as a very accepting, tolerant, creative, caring human. A human being who will make a difference in the world to improve it. I have learned I can push myself to be better just by thinking of you, and I can be happier than I was before with so little; just a smile, a new word in your vocabulary, a dance session, a photo of you. Your accomplishments make me feel like my life matters, not that it didn't before, but you have become my ultimate purpose in life. I have also learned to be scared all the time; scared for your life, of losing you, of you becoming addicted to drugs, hanging out with the wrong crowd, getting hurt, pulling away from me, an endless resource of horrible nightmares and possibilities. I have learned to become sympathetic to everyone around me, especially other parents; each kid is different and comes with a different set of challenges. You must train yourself not to judge because it is a horrible feeling. As a parent, you are already too hard on yourself; you don't need a stranger giving you "the look." As a result of me being your mother, I sympathize and embrace all the moms (and dads) who are just trying to do their best. I have been officially accepted into this new club in which we smile at parents when we see their child throwing a tantrum at the mall or a mom trying to breastfeed in public, struggling, tired. I am a more tolerant human being and have learned to live one day at a time, trying to overcome the overwhelming feelings of being a parent.
Above all, I chose to have you so I could love you. Love is above everything else, a small eternal part of me, an extension of myself, yet so different. Having you is one thing I will never take back, not for 100 hours of uninterrupted sleep (very tempting).
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