Dear Dakota/Dakofo/Baby Bear/Baby Boy/Monkey Toe/Peach Butt/Magic Bean/Tyke,
I had to include all your nicknames in there, right?
As I start this letter it is 4:53 pm on August 31, 2018. Fourteen years ago at this moment, I was sitting silently in our dark bedroom when we lived on Holly Ridge in Fort Wayne, Indiana. My eyes were closed and I was half meditating, half-praying. I was terrified. I was scared of the pain of labor, scared of the needles, scared of you getting harmed or being sick, scared of everything, and yet, I KNEW it was going to be okay. I just KNEW. Nana had been gone five months and I felt her presence so strongly and I knew she would watch over us.
I was also scared to be a mama, in general. So worried that I would hold you the wrong way, or feed you wrong, or not be able to breastfeed, or calm you, etc. I was (and still am) worried that I would fuck up everything and you’d be in therapy by age four, or that someone would hurt you or kidnap you or you’d smother in a blanket; the worries are totally irrational and endless! There is a quote: “Having a child is like having your own heart walking around outside of your body.” Nothing has ever been more true.
When I first held you and looked down at you, it was like looking into my own face and I felt a wave of sheer terror: your safety, development, and happiness depended on me now. You come first, then and now, and always.
You were my shadow the first five years of your life. We were very blessed that I was able to stay home with you full time. Our early days were full of communing in the wee hours of morning, you latched on to eat, me rocking back and forth, rocking, rocking, endlessly rocking. For a long time I would just instinctually rock while standing even if I wasn’t holding you. We would look into each other’s eyes for hours. Those moments will never go away for either of us.
When you were a toddler, our days were filled with learning how to count, the ABCs, puzzles, books, reading, flashcards of words. I wanted to give you the best possible start, so we began “school” before you could even sit up by yourself. We would go outside and talk about plants and bugs and clouds and rain and everything was why, why, why? And in those days, those were the questions that were easy to answer. Now, it’s a bit more difficult.
You were born into a very broken world. And it’s going to take a lot of glue, baby. A whole lot of glue. The good news is all the pieces are still there. The pieces are composed of the good things this world has to offer us: our family and friendships, the generosity of the planet despite our abusing it, the humor, and the love. Most importantly, the love. Love is everything. Love is God. You need look no further. You can be the glue by spreading your kindness, understanding, patience, wicked sense of humor, and heart everywhere you go. Never let this world make you bitter or unkind. You are better than that.
I could never begin to tell you how proud I am of you. You have exceeded my hopes and dreams in every possible way. You light up a room with your gentleness and humor. You work so hard to be successful in school. Your artistic talent is staggering. You are responsible, disciplined, committed, and always so respectful. You have been a dream to raise. As always, thank you for choosing me to be your mama.
I can’t promise you that I will always be here for you, and that’s not because of my health, but because no one can make that promise to anyone. We have control over what we do and the choices we make, but we are also often victims of circumstance. Does everything happen for a reason? I don’t know. I think some things do, but I also think some things just…happen. It’s frustrating, I know. But I CAN promise you this: you will never be without me. No matter where I am, no matter where you are, we are joined in love. Flesh of my flesh, are you. I will always do everything in my power, in whatever time or space of universe, to protect you and show you how much you are cherished. I know you know this, but I am always on your side, no matter what. If you’re wrong, we’ll fix it, and you will learn from it. Either way, I will defend you to the death. You can share or tell me anything and I will always love you and support you.
Here are some handy life tips just because:
Always hold open doors for people, regardless of their gender; same goes for opening car doors.
Always be nice to your restaurant server or cashier or anyone in retail. These jobs are hard and people are dicks to them all day long. Don’t be one of the dicks. Ask them how their day is going.
Never be silent if you hear or see someone being bullied.
Respect everyone until they give you a real, solid reason not to. Then you may tell them to fuck off.
Speaking of that, watch your fucking language, for fuck’s sake. Know your audience.
Never go to bed angry.
If you love someone, tell them EVERY SINGLE DAY.
Please un-bunch your socks before you put them in the laundry basket because it makes them really hard to get clean in the wash.
I love you eternally,
Mama© jennifer summer | 2018