As I write this, you don’t yet exist. No matter how we yearn for you, imagine you in our arms, dream of you, you haven’t arrived yet. I think about you everyday and wonder what your face looks like, what color your eyes are, whether your hair is curly or straight. I can imagine you with light blond curls and blue eyes as easily as I can imagine you with dark hair, straight and thick, and eyes the color of dark chocolate.
You should feel pretty lucky to already be loved so much when you haven’t even been conceived yet. I know your Daddy will spoil you rotten. He will teach you how to play video games, and how to fix a computer, and how to run from the tickle monster. I promise to teach you how to bake Mommy’s Famous Cheesecake, and how to chop garlic, and how to spell “onomatopoeia” (I had to look it up just now, so I’ll teach me first, then I’ll teach you.) We will instill in you our love for animals, our dreams for our country, and probably our irrational (Daddy’s word, not mine) fear of spiders.
I have so many dreams for you, little girl. I dream for you a world where saving the environment is second nature, not a fad. I dream for you a society that accepts you just the way you are, whether you choose to wear dresses and ribbons and ballet shoes, or dirty cutoffs and baseball caps and sneakers. I dream for you a passion that will last you a lifetime–be it dancing or writing or reading or softball or painting or drawing or singing or whatever else you can think of. I dream for you a country that understands the value of education, where science and math are fun and important. I dream for you the courage to find beauty within yourself, no matter what the magazine covers say you should look like. I dream that you will find a love as big as the love I have for your Daddy, and that you can feel safe, cherished, and comfortable in it. My daughter, how I dream for you.
I have so many promises to make to you, little girl. I promise to only sing to you at bedtime as long as you think I have a beautiful voice–when you say it’s annoying, I’ll cry a little inside, but I promise I’ll stop. I promise that we will laugh together more often than we will cry together, but when we do cry together, I will hold you up and stroke your hair and try to right the wrongs that hurt you. I promise not to freak out the first time you ask to paint your nails green, even though it will make you look like you have a fungus. I promise to teach you the alphabet game, where I draw the letters on your back with my finger, and you guess what they are. I promise to tell you the story of how I met your father, and how we fell in love, so you can learn all about healthy, strong, unconditional love. I promise that, no matter where your passion leads you, I’ll be there in the front row, cheering you on louder than anyone else, with signs and balloons and maybe even a megaphone (this will embarrass you to the point of frustration, but I promise you, one day you’ll understand why I was so excited.) I promise to teach you the words to “Inch Worm” and “Bushel and a Peck” and “You Are My Sunshine.” I promise to let you lean on your Daddy when I wish you’d lean on me–I did that with my father and I know you’ll do that with yours. I promise to be your Mom first, and your friend second. I promise I’ll try my best not to embarrass you by showing your first boyfriend baby pictures of you, but I won’t be able to help it because I have them framed all over the house anyway. I promise to love you, accept you, appreciate you, and never, ever take you for granted.
I can’t wait for you to get here, little girl. Oh, how we’ll laugh and play and sing and dance and live. I know that it may be awhile before we meet, and that we’ve already waited for so long. But when you think about the life we’ll have together, doesn’t it seem worth it? So, until we meet, my daughter, I’ll keep dreaming of you.
All my love,