To my future children,

Although I haven’t met you yet, I want you to know that I love you. With every fiber of my being, I feel a love coursing through my veins that only belongs to you. I dream of the day that you’re in my life, and I am brought to tears when I realize that moment won’t be happening any time soon.

I am still living at home with my parents, and their word is law. My parents, your grandparents, are hard people. The things that they’ve been through have shaped them in ways that I could never understand, and it’s shaped the way they parented me. I know they love me, and I love them, but their love was never easy. I’ve tried over the years to fit into the mold of “perfect daughter” and I very rarely was able to. However, I’ve come to realize that I can’t live a life pursuing a dream that isn’t mine. I see why my parents raised me the way they did, I see where they lost their way. I know that the only way I can help them is by starting my own path. 

I hope they are good grandparents to you. If my father is still around. I know he will be a great grandfather. I don’t know how my mother will be, but I know she will love you. I want so badly for them to be better because I want them in my life, and in yours. Because when my mother laughs, truly laughs, the whole room lights up. Her voice is as easy as Sunday morning, and it travels from your ears to your heart. With her around, you’ll never frown. You’ll have the best adventures, and you will learn to laugh at anything. My dad’s hugs are comforting and loving. He will teach you to love hugs, just like he did me, and his father before him. He is dependable, and hearty, and you will love every minute with him. I have memories of my grandparents, and even though they weren’t the best parents, they made up for it in their older years. They loved me, and every memory of them is a cherished one. 

So, instead of being angry with my parents for the “what ifs” and “what could’ve been” I will take note. Taking with me what they did right, and leaving behind what didn’t work. I will continue living for the life I want for myself, and although I’m living through one of the most difficult moments of my life, I will continue to look forward to life.

When I think of you, my future son(s) or daughter(s), I think of you through all stages of life. As an infant, when you’re still reliant on your parents constant attention and care. Then as a toddler. The time where you first begin to explore the world outside of yourself. You’ll test boundaries, and patience, but you’ll learn so much. Then as a child, a teenager, an adult. Your life will be yours to live through, and I can help guide you, but I know you won’t always listen. My advice to you, listen to me every once in a while. I know I talk a lot, but some of the things I have to say are useful. 

I know you will be beautiful, and I hope you will be kind. But really I just want you to be yourself. I want you to express yourself, to be free of influence, and follow your dreams. Such bold, sweeping, statements, but it’s true. I will always be there to support you, but your life is yours, and I dream of what you will do with it. I dream of the things you will say, the laughs you will have, the time you will spend with others, and the time you spend alone. I dream of your hobbies and quirks, your daily routines and your bad habits. I dream of the friends you will make, and the family you will have. 

I also dream of the mother I will be to you. The mother that kisses boo-boo’s and sings lullabies. The mother that scolds you when you hurt bugs, and the mother that dances wherever she feels like it. I’m sure there will be times where you’re embarrassed of me, but I hope that I will teach you to never be embarrassed for being yourself. I will be a mother of care and concern, and also a mother that fosters independence and self-reliance. I promise to support you and love you. I promise to encourage your curiosities, and nurture your personality. I promise to protect you from what I can, and prepare you for what I cannot. 

I love my parents, and I know they want what is best for me, but I never really knew who I was. Most of my decisions were made based on what I thought my parents wanted. My favorite color was purple, because it was my dad’s favorite color. I wore the same pair of baggy jeans for a year, because my mom told me she liked them. I disliked Xbox games, because my dad disliked them. And when my mother grew a distaste for fruit, so did I. It wasn’t until I was 19 that I met a dear friend of mine. She helped me find myself outside of my parents.

For the first time, I knew what my favorite color was: green. I knew what hobbies I liked, and I pursued them. I had a job I was happy with, even though my parents didn’t approve, but it didn’t matter to me. I bought myself fruit for the first time in years, and I ate as much as I wanted. I took baths with salt and oils in them. I splurged on what I wanted, treated myself to things I liked, and I was happy. For the first time I saw how life was meant to be lived. I decided then, that I would never go back to the way it was before. I want my parents to enjoy life like that too, but they’re set in their ways. I grieve for them, but it’s not my place to fix it for them. They are the only people capable of that.

Not all good things last forever. And I won’t lie, it’s hard to see the bright side while living through the darkness. Although I told myself I would never go back to how things were, some habits are harder to kick than others. But then I experience something. A moment between blurred monotony. Like when I step outside, and the sun warms my cold skin. Or when the passing of the seasons becomes imminent in fallen leaves and chilly mornings. Or when the stars at night are the same as they were the night before, but they’re still just as exciting. Whatever it is, it’s a glimpse into what is still there, of what I can achieve. I can see a life ahead of me, even if I have no idea how I will get it, I know I can, and because I can, I will. 

I will do everything in my power to protect you from unnecessary pain, but your life won’t be easy. If it were easy there would be no point. We are human, and therefore there will be challenges, but I hope to equip you with the tools to help you overcome them. That is my responsibility to you, my child, my children, that is the purpose of this love. Be happy, dance, hold your friends, and love animals. Laugh when you fall, and cry when you’re happy. Experience life, experience emotions, and appreciate what you have. 

CLICK HERE TO WRITE ME BACK

Sincerely,

I was hanging out with a good friend of mine the other day, and she asked me something that got me thinking. She said to me: “I’ve noticed the last couple times we hung out that you talk about the future and having kids, is that something you think about a lot?” I sat there for a minute reflecting, and then I responded; I explained to her that I do think about it in the aspect of knowing the person I want to be when I am a mother, as well as the steps I need to take in the meantime before family planning starts. She took in my response and then took the question a bit further by asking if I think I am doing everything I do now for my future children, or if I am doing all of this for myself. Quickly sifting through the thoughts as they rushed in, I realized it may seem like I am living my life for a future that could not even happen (I mean, life doesn’t always go as planned). After a short pause and a breath, I stated that I honestly feel like I am doing this for all of us. I let her know that I am working on being the parent that I wanted as a child, and there are things I know I want to do for my child(ren) that requires my current dedication to my wellbeing, both physically and mentally. I also mentioned that I would be upset if the time came to start a family and I looked back at the past couple years and didn’t see any progress towards my goals. In that regard, I like to keep that on my mind as it keeps me focused on my intentions and values.

For the past several years, I have been working on my mental health and regulating my emotions. For years I suffered with anxiety; I constantly worried about the worst-case scenarios in every part of my life, I’d often have angry outbursts that were followed by uncontrollable sobbing, and I felt like I had no control over any of my thoughts or feelings. All of this left me with a feeling of hatred toward my brain, and therefore my entire self. I would find myself “people-pleasing,” because I never wanted to let anyone down or feel like a bad friend. Behind the constant saying “yes” when I meant really meant “no,” and over-extending myself to the point of burnout, deep down I did all of these things because I just felt horrible about myself and I didn’t want anyone to see me the way I saw myself. Fortunately, with the help of my therapist and your father (he’s truly the best, I know you’ll love him so much), I have since come to realize that I am not the awful person that my anxiety tricked me into thinking I was, and I am finally learning to love every part of me, including the parts of me that I once despised.

As I have been on this journey, I have been learning about psychology and how certain events or situations can impact a young child’s brain. I have been learning about how humans coregulate with other people around them, and how important that is when a young child is growing up. I know that if I were to have had you a few years ago, in the midst of my worst anxiety attacks and self-loathing patterns, that would not have been the healthiest environment for you to be in during your early days. As I continue to work on my patience and learning about my mind, oftentimes I about you and your future. I think about you having a calm, content mother who happily lulls you to sleep and is there to comfort you in times when you feel distressed. I think about you witnessing your parents emulating the true meaning of love, and also feeling that same incredible love from us. I think about how I want you to be curious and ask questions and be confident in who you are, even in times when peers or others around you may try to influence you. I think about how there are times where you may not like me so much or I may fail you in some ways, but that I hope as an adult you will be able to understand that I am doing my best and still learning as a human being. So yes, I do think about you a lot, and I do what I do every day for you. There is a well-known quote that reads: “You can’t pour from an empty cup,” so I make an effort every day to make sure I fill my own cup first, so in the future, I can fill yours.

To my future child(ren), I love you already.

CLICK HERE TO WRITE ME BACK

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.

CLICK HERE TO WRITE ME BACK

Love,

Dear future cinephile, the child born into the next generation,

Hey, there, kid. You do not know me, nor will we cross paths, at least, not for a long time. However, I do know you. You are the chosen one, the child who will bring kindness and good fortune to those around you, who will be kind to the old people in grocery stores and pick up the soup for them on the high shelves as you stand on your tiptoes, your half centimeter shortness in height the only barrier between you two, preventing you from making sure that grandma gets her eight cans of tomato basil to nourish her for the week. You will persevere, perspire, and keep your balance steady as you bring yourself to the correct measurement to obtain that soup. Justice for grandma’s tummy! 

Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic. I tend to behave like a kid. 

Look at me, writing “Justice for grandma’s tummy” at 23 years of age. Grow up, Meghan! Jeez. 

You might think I sound like the grandma who needs the soup from my tangent, but you must know that I have always been a grandma – or, a grandpa, for that matter. 

You see, my grandpa was a cinephile of sorts. Basically, that means that he really liked movies. But he liked movies in a different way than most people. My grandpa and my grandma gave birth to four children, my father, my aunt, and my two uncles. They were all under the care of my grandparents, and all have different types of personalities, yet all come from the same couple. What brought my father, his siblings and my grandpa together were their visits to the local movie theatre. Basically, my grandpa took my father and his siblings to the movies when he wanted to bond with them. They would see whatever new movie was playing and would be cooped up in tiny seats next to one another, watching the screen with wide eyes in the dimly lit space. You see, movies were a way for families to come together and see something new, cool, and at times, innovative. My grandpa did not have the technology and ability to watch films in theatres when he was a kid, so he made it his personal mission to take his children to see them in person. 

My grandpa, my father, and his siblings lived in India, and because of this, the theatres operate in a different way than in the United States. Films that were played in India had intermissions, just like how they do in modern Broadway plays, productions, and musicals. When this would happen, my grandpa would be the first one out of the theatre, cash in hand, ready to pick up the first, fresh batch of popcorn and concessions the theatre had to offer. It was at that moment my father and his siblings would reconvene with my grandpa and grandma in the lobby, munching on snacks and discussing a bit about the film they were watching, their eyes still glowing with excitement from the imagery displayed on the screen. 

Flash forward thirty (30+) years later, and my father is in his mid-40s, taking my sister, mother, and I to the theatres for movie nights. We always bought food and drinks before the movie started, as there were no intermissions during the films in the United States, and there still aren’t. This left little room for us to bond about the film halfway through and had forced us to determine if the middle of the movie had past or not. Regardless, after the film had finished, I would be racing to the car, bursting with thoughts on the film, ready to tell my father everything I thought about the film. He did not care as much about my opinion, which is something I did not realize until much later in my life and made me very sad. However, I then discovered that he did the same with my grandpa, and my father felt sad when my grandpa did not pay attention to him. 

I NEVER want that to happen to you, love. I want you to have fun with your family, to watch every movie that you want to see, to eat all the popcorn, tell your parents all your theories on who the villain was, and why grandma needs her tomato basil soup!!

In all seriousness, I know I do not know you, and you do not know me, but I need you to know that I love you. You ARE the chosen one, though. The first of many movie clichés that will riddle your existence and provide you the ability to understand complex subject matter around you in the form of moving pictures. You may not be a boy, but you are my Harry Potter, my Luke Skywalker, and my best friend. The fact that you are here, and reading this letter, is good enough for me. Go out there and do some good, kid. It’s your destiny.

Okay, no more clichés. Scout’s honor. 

Thank you, my love. 

CLICK HERE TO WRITE ME BACK