Letter To My 2 Year Old

Letter To My 2 Year Old

Dear Puddin,

I’m not very good with face to face but I have something I want to tell you, something you need to know. The easiest way for me to tell you is to write to you.

Right now, you’re two years old. You’re small, smart and stubborn. Most of that you get from me. I’m not sure if that makes me sorry or proud. I’m mostly proud. You’re funny, a messer and such an entertainer. This you get from your dad. I take no responsibility for that! Each day you learn something new. You pick things up so quickly it scares me. You have so much potential, you will be amazing no matter what you decide to do with your life.

You are so alert, you miss nothing. The soother we’ve hidden or the play doh I hate, the buttons or grapes you want before dinner. You see it all. There are some things I wish you wouldn’t see, things I wish you didn’t have to see.

I’m not the best mother in the world and unfortunately I’m the only one you have. So you have to bear with me, I am trying. I gave your dad my love and my promise the day I married him but I gave you my body and my life. I carried and protected you for nine months. I got sick often and was terrified the antibiotics would make you sick. I got diabetes and panicked about the amount of sugar that was in every little piece of food I ate. Milk, bread, fruit, it’s all full of sugar, it was an eye opener! I was threatened with scary procedures and warned about the severe harm I was doing to you. But I did what I had to for you. It was all for you.

I couldn’t sleep after you were born. I couldn’t believe you were really here, really mine. It terrified me. I was now responsible for a tiny human being. It was one thing carrying you inside me but now you were real. I missed so much of those early days with you when I got sick. But I knew you were safe and that was all that mattered. You were surrounded by people who loved and cared for you, and that was what you needed.

It was also what I needed. If you were safe and secure, I could focus on getting better and hopefully be the mother you needed. I did my best, I tried so hard. It wasn’t easy and I didn’t do it alone. I had a whole team behind me, your dad, our family, doctors and nurses. But most importantly I had you. You were the reason I had to get better. I had no choice.

It’s been two years and it hasn’t been easy. But we are together. I’m still a bit defective in my own words. I have good days, I have bad days and I have really bad days. I really wish you didn’t see them but you do. On my really bad days, I see the look in your littles eyes and I know you understand more than you should. I’m still trying, Puddin. I get up in the morning and I keep going because I have to. Some days I really don’t want to but I do. I do it for you. You are the most important thing in my world and you always will be. I’m not the best mother in the world and I never will be. I do the best I can. I will hug and kiss you. I will play with you and scold you. I will laugh and I will shout. I will be proud of you and frustrated with you. I will have bad days and hide in my room. I will have good days and be glued to you. I will desperately want time to myself and just as desperately want you back again.

I was told motherhood would be a joyous, rewarding experience. Nobody told me it would also be the most painfully terrifying experience I would ever have. Sometimes I think about how different I wish thing could have been. The pain, the paranoia, the tears and the guilt. I spent most of the last two years thinking about this. I am not now nor will I ever be glad I went through those things. But without them I wouldn’t have you. Without them you would not be here. So in a way the end justifies the means. You won’t hear me say that again, remember it.

I won’t always be near you. I won’t always be nice to be around. Ask your dad. I’m anti social, stubborn and blunt, it’s not a good combination. The worse news is that it’s genetic. Don’t worry, you will need two of those traits to get by. Hopefully, I will help you with that. I will help you become whoever you want to be. I really don’t care who that is as long as you’re happy. That is my goal. You won’t always be happy with me, you won’t always like me. Sometimes, you’ll think you hate me. You will do what you have to do.

I will do what I have to do. I have to get up everyday. I have to keep going. I have to be there for you. You are the mission, the goal, the end game. You are my reason. You are my little alien baby, my Puddin, the centre of Mamam’s world. I promise that will never change, no matter what happens. You might not always be able to tell by my actions and words but I promise it will always be true.

All my love,

Mamam

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