When I was young, I did not understand much about life except that I was small and everyone around me was not. I was in unfamiliar territory, with shapes and colors flooding my vision; everything had a specific design. It was always red cars and brown bears, pink dolls and sheets as white as freshly fallen snow. Mommy held my hand when we crossed the street, and I never questioned it. That's just how things were.

At age two, three things were clear to me: mommy loved me, I loved mommy, and mommy always knew best. I didn't know life worked any other way. I tried to rebel from time to time, declaring that I would not take my naps and that I only wanted to color with the bright purple crayon, but at the end of every day mommy tucked me into bed, daddy sang me a lullaby, and I drifted off to sleep feeling safe and warm.

When I turned five, things began to make a little more sense to me. I knew how to write my ABCs. I knew how to tie my shoes. I knew not to walk across the street without holding daddy's hand. It seemed like I was always following rules and listening to people much older than me tell me how to live my life. However, in the back of my mind, I knew that I had so much left to learn and that my ticket to figuring out the world was hidden in the sea of wisdom my parents tried to teach me to swim in. I could only count my age on one hand. What did I know?

From grade school to high school, I learned valuable lessons and met people who would shape the course of my life. I made decisions concerning friendships and my personal beliefs. I was hurt and helped, mistaken and corrected, indifferent and sympathetic. The world took on shape and dimension and I realized, perhaps for the first time, that there was a grander meaning to life than the little part I was playing in the moment. After a long time of listening and gaining the wisdom of those smarter than me, I established my own identity; it felt incredible to stand on my own two feet instead of dancing on everyone else's. It was then that I first wondered what it would be like to be a mom.

Then I went to college and discovered I had nothing figured out. Although I initially felt confident and secure, I quickly realized that I was a daisy in a garden full of hydrangeas. I was just as beautiful, but it took me awhile to figure out where I fit in. God brought me some of the best friends I could ever ask for, but He also taught me to trust Him in every area of my life (particularly my relationships with men). Before I entered into a romantic relationship, I thought about whether or not I could see that man becoming my husband and raising my child. I didn't always make the best choices, but my mistakes taught me to rely on God and trust Him to bring me the man He had already chosen for me. When He did, I knew He would have you in mind.

Now I am 22, a college senior. I don't know who you are yet, and I don't know what it will be like to have you. I'm not sure how I'm going to feel or what it will be like to be responsible for a human life. What I do know is that life is a miracle; children are a gift to the world and all those fortunate enough to inhabit it. I also know that I love you. When I get married, you'll be in my thoughts. When I get pregnant, I will gladly endure morning sickness, exhaustion, and every unpleasant aspect of pregnancy for the chance to know you. I can't wait to rock you to sleep, softly singing you a lullaby as I gaze at the precious infant in my arms. Nothing could be more beautiful.

I hope I get to watch you the first time you dance, the first time you speak, and the moment you take your first step. As you reach the "terrible twos" I will give you your first art lesson — with a container of washable paint and a bathtub in desperate need of decoration, I will laugh as I watch you smear the liquid dye all over the white plastic surface and remember when I was a kid, I did the same thing. Maybe I'll even join in, creating a masterpiece to make you smile. Then, when the tub is full of our creations, I will turn the water on and scrub you clean, watching the colors swirl together before getting sucked down the drain.

I know you will have a lot of questions. You'll be young, and the world will feel like a ball rolling off your fingers, bouncing onto the hardwood floor. The candles on your cake may represent your age, but you won't be confined by a number. You'll change and grow, learning what the world is like and what it means to live in it. Even if you think you have the world all figured out, take some advice from someone who's been there: there will always be more to discover. Take chances, make mistakes, and figure out what you believe before someone decides for you. It's not easy to navigate this world, with its distractions and cacophony of discouraging words, without knowing who you are.

When life gets hard, remember that I've been there. I know what it feels like to be let down, to be humiliated, to feel so hurt your insides seem shattered beyond repair. It may seem to last forever, but that's only temporary. Life goes on, and if you let it, it will astonish you, inspire you, encourage you, and give you more than you've ever asked for. God is funny that way. He loves to make dreams come alive. I know because when He gives me you, He'll be fulfilling mine.

Sincerely,

Mom