Dear Mama


Your world is about to be rocked.

Or so I’m told.

I’m not yet a mama myself, but it is the one thing that I know without a doubt that I was born to do. Everything else I’m just making up as I go along, but for most of my adult life I’ve pined for that day when my world, too, would be rocked. I still feel that way most days, just trying to get my ducks in a row, but we’re getting closer, I can tell we’re getting closer.

But that’s beside the point. Because your day is so close, overdue in fact. For so many months you’ve waited patiently, given your body over to another teeny tiny being, cared for her and you and him, and waited. The waiting is almost over.

Last month I had the privilege of pretending to be your photographer. There in the park under the impossibly bright Colorado sun you were gorgeous. We spent an afternoon galavanting about, you humored me as I asked for you to turn this way or that, and I mostly just peered at your belly for hours on end. Equal parts jealous and proud, perhaps.

It occurs to me now that however beautiful you were that day, it’s only going to get better. The only thing more gorgeous than a pregnant glow is the exhausted pride of a new mama. That sweet little girl of yours is just going to magnify your beauty, she’s going to be all perfect and yours.

And when she’s not perfect? Some days she won’t be perfect. She’ll be loud and messy and completely exhausting. And when she is, I won’t be able to say that I’ve been there – not yet – but I want you to know that I am here. Late at night or early in the morning. When you’ve walked and rocked and paced and fed more than feels humanly possible. When you’re lonely or bored, pick up the phone and drive north, I’m here. Remember this – we were all sisters long before you were a mama and despite being one of the first don’t forget that we’re all in your court.

In no  time at all you are going to survive a seemingly possible feat, (new) mama. And when you do, you will be welcomed into a club of women the world over who have survived to become mothers. Who survive as mothers. Who thrive as mothers. I long to be in that club, but in the interim I’m just grateful to be in yours.

Happy due date. Good luck. All my love.

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