Dear Ambivalent of Auckland

Hey Me,

I know what you’re thinking.

You reckon life is going pretty well so why make any big changes? Why halve our household income overnight, and increase the expenses at the same time? Why upset the cat by introducing someone new to her house? Why radically change the body you’ve finally come to accept? Why put yourself in the position of having to take significant unpaid leave from a job that’s really quite rewarding? Why take the risk of irrevocably attaching a new person to your life when there’s a possibility you might not like them? Why put yourself in a different place from so many of your friends, somewhere they might not want to visit anymore? Why screw with the equilibrium of a relationship that’s nicely balanced, by adding a third person to the equation?

You’re full of doubt, not least of it a big dollop of self-doubt about becoming a mother, and so you’re consciously pushing away thoughts and conversations about breeding. After all, you’re even not thirty yet, no need to rush.

Here’s a little truth about where you’ll be in a couple of years time. You’ll be so glad to have Wriggly in your life. You’ll be unable to stop yourself from telling people how wonderful he is, even when you’ve just told them five minutes earlier. You’ll feel a sense of achievement, not just because you’re keeping him alive and healthy and happy, but also because you built him with your body, and you’re continuing to do so by breastfeeding (oh and by the way, although that’ll be incredibly hard for several months it will get easier and you’ll be so relieved you persevered). Wriggly will be someone to cuddle and cry with when times are hard, and someone whose laughs and smiles will brighten your day, even when they’re directed at someone else (including the peacock lamp in the lounge).

A baby is a scary thing. It’s scary before it’s real, it’s scary when you’re pregnant, it’s scary when it first arrives and looks so fragile and vulnerable and puzzling. It’s still scary even when you have a pretty good handle on what’s going on (which will take at least three months). It’s scary every time something changes, and change is constant. At times it will be so scary that you’ll doubt yourself more than you have in many many years. But it’s worth it because scary is only part of the picture.

Adding a child adds more love. More love for you, more love for your partner, more love for your family and friends, even more love for the cat. Sometimes you’ll feel that the love is filling you so entirely, to the very ends of your fingertips and toes, that you’ll explode. It won’t always be like that, but when it is close your eyes tight and store that sensation away securely. That memory will get you through a lot.

You probably won’t believe this. You’ll want to see for yourself, even while you worry that there is no exchange card for your own progeny. And in a while you’ll be where I am now, writing this letter to myself and reflecting on how much better this mothering thing is than I ever thought it could be when I was you.

Arohanui,
Me.