To my unborn child,

The first love I ever knew, and first pain I was introduced to, was my mother’s. And if you ever get the chance to come through me into this world, I’ll be yours too.

Because you’ll have grown inside my womb, where you’ll have eaten what I ate and felt all that I feel. And all of my patterns, whether I want them or not, will become somatically inscribed into your genetic coding. So that even after the umbilical cord is cut, we’ll still be connected.

Even now, strangely, I feel we are connected in spirit.

Because even now, my body carries the egg that might one day become you.

Stranger still, my mom once carried us in her womb. She carried the egg that became me while she was still inside of her mother.

Though you aren’t born or even conceived, when and if you were to be, I’ll want you to know that mother is a spirit. And sometimes, a mother in her human form, for whatever reason, can’t or doesn’t always know how to embody the mother spirit. So we may, at different times in our lives, find a mother in another — person, place, or even within our own selves. Know too, that Mother Earth is all around you.

I want to be the best mother I can be, but I am scared, so I write to you in my journal.

Because one day, I might be gone, and I’ll want you to know that even then, you can always find a mother inside and step into her when you need to. You can never be without me because I am her, and she is in you.

I understand that it isn’t my responsibility to shield you from the wears and tears of life, but I do feel like it is my duty to prepare you for them as best as I can. So if any C-PTSD or abandonment wounds show up for you, here’s what you need to know.

My mom, who is your grandmother, was abandoned from the time she was a baby until she was six years old. She was raised by her aunts in a rural village in Thailand, and was breastfed by her grandmother. For the longest time, she referred to herself as “the girl with no mother.”

Upon returning to her homeland with her in 2015, I watched as those aunts that once fed and bathed her, remembered and embraced her with open arms and tear-stained cheeks. And then I knew, for the first time in my life, that she had been loved after all. Maybe not very well by the one woman who should have loved her most, nor by the man she chose to marry, but at least, well enough by those women. Enough, anyway, that she was able to love me well enough to want to gift that same love to you (with my own spin on it, of course).

But my mom, for a long time, had been disconnected from her roots, and that disconnectedness manifested physically in 2020 as colorectal cancer. Located at her root chakra, her emotions, past traumas, and hurts that were never addressed or processed rose to the surface, demanding her attention. Because the body remembers, even when the mind forgets. All this, I want you to know too.

For the last few years, I’ve been rewriting my mother’s narrative from “the girl with no mother” to “the girl with many mothers.” And I’ve noticed that as one of us heals, so does the other, and I’m hoping that it continues down the line.

In rewriting the stories she had always told herself, my siblings, and I while we were growing up, I realized that I too, could rewrite my own stories at any point in time. I didn’t need or want to abandon myself in order to be loved anymore, nor do I choose to surround myself with people who self-abandon or that emotionally abandon me.

And this lesson I’m re-learning every single day, in every relationship, including the one with myself.

If I could tell you one thing, it’d be this — I want you to choose you.

Choose you, when given the choice to wrestle someone out of their own karmic entrapment. Set yourself free and potentially inspire them to do the same.

Choose you, when faced with the dilemma of making sacrifices. Distinguish between the two by observing that offerings are given freely while sacrifices tend to be bargains in disguise, that in time, lead to resentment if the return on investment fails to arrive.

Choose you, when this world or any force within it tries to silence your voice. Your voice is powerful and each time you roar, you do so for you, for me, for your grandmother, and all others who came before.

Choose you, when your intuition guides you to your calling. If you don’t answer, it will keep ringing until you do. Any good karma I’ve been generating, I hope will be passed onto you.

Because everytime you choose to honor your truth, you become empowered. And the love that ripples from the changes you consciously make within your being, slowly but surely heals the fabric of our collective humanity’s consciousness. When you come into this world, you will have inherited ancestral gifts too, not only traumas. And if you let them, those gifts can become a reservoir of innate strength.

Choose you — because it is your life to live, and no one else can die for you.

As I write these words, I’m writing them to me too.

That might be the strangest thing about becoming an adult, let alone a parent. As soon as you think you’re ready to teach, you realize that you never stop learning.

Most of all, know that I love you always. And one day, if I’m ever ready, when the time is right, I’ll be honored to meet you.

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Love,