A Letter To My Daughter

Hey there kiddo, how ya doing? Within 48 hours you and I will meet face-to-face, and I gotta say, it’ll be among the best days of my life. I’ve spent the last nine months thinking about you, giving you a personality, and dreaming about you in my life. On Monday, you move from a concept – a lump in my wife’s belly – to a reality. I hope, when you read this, you’ll know that I tried my best.

See, we all grow up thinking our parents are more than they are. To a child, parents are providers and pacifiers. The cycle of the parent/child relationship goes like this – For a while, you won’t recognize us, but we’ll still care for you. Soon, you will recognize us, by face and voice, and we’ll still care for you. When you first call us by name, our hearts will melt, and we’ll rush to you. But at some point, and it might not be for a decade or so, your wonder in us will fade. We’ll just be your parents, a speed bump on your road to fun. But we’ll still love you.

Perhaps at some point, you’ll succumb to cliché and prattle on about how you didn’t ask to be born. Perhaps you’ll withdraw from us for a while and try to find yourself. Your introspection is a benefit, but it won’t be easy on us.

Look at me, going on like some kind of weathered expert. Truth is, kiddo, I don’t know shit about raising a child. I’ve read some books, watched some programs, talked to some people…but I won’t know what to do until you get here. And I may not be the most technically proficient parent. Your diapers may not always stay on, you might develop a rash, your clothes will certainly not match. But I’ll make up for it.

I’ve got something that cannot be replicated. I can tell you now, before you are born, that I will try my hardest to be the best parent I can be for you. Your mother and I – we love you more than you will know until you have a child of your own – we will always look out for your best interests.

I guess it’s a good thing that you won’t remember much of your infancy; we’ll still be feeling it out, ourselves.

Sleep tight, tonight, my unborn child. Tomorrow and Monday will be busy days. Your mother and I have done a thorough job of preparing for your arrival, but it won’t be perfect. All we ask is that you bear with us, and we promise to raise you the best way we can