Hi love
I’ve been sitting with this little piece of writing for a few days now, reluctant to share because it’s so close to my heart, and simultaneously called to share because I’m sure that this vulnerability will land beautifully with some of you (and also can I be bothered writing something else? Hehee). I long to express this gentle part of myself. One of my teachers once described me as soft, and said we need more softness in this world. My dad tells me I’m soft in a less complimentary fashion (haaaa), but I suppose, either way, I’m a sensitive soul who likes to share my heart - even if that opens me up to being hurt sometimes. I guess I’ll take it. I also feel strongly that honesty in writing is important; maybe because that seems to be a special skill of mine in this arena - just putting it all on the table. I know I know, half the instagram population is just as great at sharing their dirty laundry on the internet - but I like to think my grammar and punctuation is ever so slightly superior (wait, did I just use ‘is’ correctly?). Though I’m wary of jinxing and opening myself up to future scrutiny (will they look down on me if I share my dreams and they don’t come true?), you know I just can’t help but be an open book. So, without further ado, a letter for my future daughter who may or may not come into being.
My darling daughter
It feels strange to be writing these words to someone who doesn’t really, technically, exist - but I have been sensing you for a long time now. I remember saying to your dad a few years ago, ‘I know we’ve decided not to have kids, and I’m not saying I want to, but I just feel like I’ll have a daughter one day.’ Your dad feels your presence too, and your Aunty Leah. Even your Aunty Tara has a hunch you’ll come into being. All these people are waiting to welcome you, patiently, without attachment.
I’m not sure if I’ll share these words with anyone else yet - if I do they might think I’ve gone mad. But I don’t really think of you so much as a tangible being, but a part of myself, an intuitive inkling, or maybe just a symbolic spirit guiding and supporting me during this era of my life; this deep settling into my womanhood - which perhaps comes during our middle ages and brings an internal earth mama who has been dormant until now. I believe that if we, as women, don’t end up having children, we find some other, equally beautiful and valid, way to express this inner mother.
It’s funny to have known for so long that I didn’t want a child of my own and then suddenly feel you more strongly than ever. I decided late, and that’s had its challenges. I worry that I’m too old, and that that will be a detriment to you. Maybe I’ve waited too long to bring you into this world. Maybe I’ll be too tired by the time you’re here, if you’re ever here. But when I sink deep into my knowing and tune out all the noise, I know that’s not true - because you make me want to be the best, healthiest, happiest version of myself. For now, that looks like creating a home for you - by taking care of my body and mind in the best way I can, by focusing on gratitude for this fortunate life, and by nurturing and nourishing the relationships that will support us both. And so even if you simply remain in spirit by my side for as long as we need each other, you’ve still helped me enormously.
When I settle into your essence, I feel less inclined to judge myself, because I need to be an example for you. You’re with me now and possibly in the future, watching how I relate to myself and the world around me. When I imagine you growing up and navigating the insane amount of choices in this ever changing, crazy place, I want you to know there are no wrong decisions - your circumstances largely dictate the options available to you, and you’re doing it all perfectly given what’s been presented. Your life isn’t always going to look the same as everyone else’s - and that’s what makes you so unique and so very loveable. If you should find yourself sitting in a place of comparison, take a deep breath and try to trust; the thing that fills the hearts of others won’t always be what makes your soul sing, and that’s okay. There won’t always be a right answer, but your intuition will guide you and it will rarely lead you astray - at least not for long.
It’s been a really rough few years for our family, and my journey into motherhood has already well and truly begun with your cousins. It hasn’t been easy. My resilience has been tested over and over again, and I’ve been pushed to my absolute limit - in life and as a ‘parent’ with those nephews who have challenged me in ways I didn’t know possible. It’s a roller coaster, but a wonderful one that I wouldn’t change for the world; I love those boys as if they were my own.
But, in contrast, your presence is easy. I feel that you’re so much like your dad, and I love the thought of carrying that with me. In a way it’s already begun as we create our own family unit. Your dad and I have known each other for almost 18 years, have been together for seven, and married for a few crazy months - I’m beginning to know him so well that he’s a part of me. If or when you come along, that part of him will truly exist within my own being, and that makes me feel so comforted and safe. In my mind you look like me but your personality is so him - and that makes my heart soar; to have two beings in my world with your dad’s calm and settled presence feels like such an incredible blessing.
I feel like I know you already; always telling me to relax, that you have your own timeline, that you’re waiting for the right moment, and that I need to allow myself to rest and digest in this brief pause amidst the mayhem of life. ‘Relax, mum’, you say. ‘Everything in its own time’ - the Hicks motto (or something like that), and I’m a Hicks now (officially, as of yesterday).
My life has been so amazing so far. I’ve learned and travelled and had so much fun. I’ve made so many connections, spent oodles of time in the most beautiful nature, and moved my body in the most joyful ways. I’ve helped raise my nephews, had an incredible time with the love of my life, enjoyed frolicking around one of the the most abundant parts of the world with the most joyous, loyal, cattle dog, and have been available for my family through a very tumultuous few years. If you don’t make it to this earthly plane, I have no regrets. You’ve supported me in spirit as I move from my maiden to mother era, and I will use that transition to continue to love and care for all the beautiful beings around me. I know my life will be up and down and round and round and blessed and special and full of love. I have put a lot of myself into making mindful decisions for myself and the ones I care about.
I stand by those decisions and feel proud of the life I’ve created.
So, dear daughter, I love exploring this chapter of life with you as a little spirit on my shoulder - letting me know that everything’s going to be okay. We’re in this together: struggling, shifting, and enjoying, with patience and surrender - such important lessons we mothers and daughters must learn. You’ve taught me so much just by being - a thought, an intuition, or a spirit that will come when you’re ready. And for that I am eternally grateful.
Thank you all for being here. All my love,
Jess
Jess, so beautiful. Your words are a soothing balm and your connection to spirit is so strong. Thank you for sharing your open heart. It’s very special, ❤️