Preparing to prepare
My current beliefs around parenting are delicate, they balance between romantic notions of an all encompassing relationship, the magic, the lure, the mystery of a newly incarnated being and a death meditation that I’m sure I haven’t fully prepared for.
I have no idea what to expect, yet I (even before becoming pregnant) expect so much.
I want for my child to grow in love and safety, and I imagine that is a basic number one on any parents list, yet the end doesn’t always justify the means and many of us end up in therapy killing off our mothers and retelling our heart breaks.
I want to hold my world-view unwaivering, yet I want the power to protect my child from every pain.
I want to allow for personal experience, and still I feel that my every choice will have a magnanimous effect.
As I sit in a place of contemplation, of calling in the child that I will name as my own, I want to cry out for forgiveness before any damage is done, and compassion because I have no answers. I want to write a letter promising to do my very best, all the while knowing that whatever good intentions I have, mistakes will be made. I want to be courageous and open, smart but soft, wise and kind. I want to be the very best of me for them.
And in the same moment, I’m grasping at that collection of qualities, wanting to be seen.
This is portrait of me, while there is still only me, before I shared the boundary of my skin with another being, before, if my friend Nancy’s words are true, “the happiness begins”.
In this moment I already feel so fiercely happy.