I’ll never have children. This isn’t a source of sorrow for me. I would be a useless mother. I am also petrified of babies, and whenever someone unceremoniously dumps one on me, I want to run away, very quickly. Nature also saw fit to ensure I never did pass these dubious genes on, and that’s probably for the best.
Whenever I talk about this topic with my friends, they tell me I’d be a brilliant mother. But then again, they would say that. They kind of have to. I disagree, strongly, but it still got my cogs turning. So this a letter, to the daughter I’ll never have.
Dear the One Who Will Never Exist,
First of all, I’m sorry that we never got to meet. I want to assure you, it’s for the best. You wouldn’t want me for a mother. I would be useless, not only with the practical side of things- dropping you on your head and so forth, but also with the emotional side. I’m not very good with that sort of thing. I don’t know how to be tactile, or how to stroke your hair when you have a nightmare.
But I have lived a life, and I can tell you what it’s like, because you’ll never get the chance to know. Being little is amazing. You wouldn’t have remembered it of course, and I know things from photos that I don’t remember. I don’t remember stroking the cat in the garden, wearing a puffy pink onesie with a big furry hood. I don’t remember my pram, my high chair, my Mum feeding me carrots. You would have liked your Grandma very much I think. And your Granddad. They would have loved you too. You mustn’t doubt that. But being little is lovely. They days feel like forever and the sun seems to shine almost permanently. There would have been holidays where I would have taken you to the sea, and I would have taught you how to dance. I love to dance. I studied it for almost 15 years, from tiny little bundle in pink ankle socks and tiny, tiny shoes (I still have them, I would have shown you) to long pink tights and big blocked shoes (yes, your Mum could dance on her toes. It hurts.) We would have had a cat and maybe a dog, because I love animals. You would have learnt to read and write, and I would have started you off with all the books I read- Matilda and Anne of Green Gables. I hope, that like me and your Grandma, you would have spent much of your time with your nose in a book. Your Grandma would have to teach you how to sing, because unlike me, she has a lovely voice, whereas I sound like a ferret going through a mangle.
I would have bought you lovely clothes, and cuddly toys, and I would have let you have my teddy bear Arthur, which was given to me when I was a baby. I would let you paint your room any colour you liked. Mine was pink when I was small, because pink is my favourite colour. We would have gone to playgroup, and made cupcakes together. You would have eaten the icing from the bowl and so would I.
On your first day at school, I would have told you not to be afraid. You shouldn’t be because I would know you, and you would be very smart. I would hope you like school, because I did. My teacher in lower school looked like a good witch, all softly spoke voice and frizzing blonde hair like a halo. I had a lot of fun there, learning new things and cutting and pasting and sticking things. I’d pick you up every day and we’d go home and watch Disney movies and make chicken nuggets for tea (at nearly 27 years old, I still eat children’s food because I like it. You know where you can stick your chargrilled chicken and caramelised shallots, I’ll stick with my turkey dinosaur sandwich.) I would hope you’d make friends at school, boys and girls before the gap becomes too great, and played in the playground. We would have celebrated Easter and Christmas with chocolate for breakfast, because that’s how it should be done.
When you go to middle school, it will seem a lot less intimidating. Most of your friends from lower school will probably go with you. Let’s hope and pray you would inherit your fathers maths skills and not your mothers, because may God have mercy on you if you do. Let’s hope you would have got your mothers English skills and nice handwriting though, as your father writes like a cat having an epileptic fit in a pot of ink. Your Dad is amazing by the way, and as much as he hates children, he’s very good with them. He would have loved you fiercely.
Your Dad and I met at work. I hated him on sight, but things change, and now, he’s the centre of my whole world. He’s so funny and clever and honest and gentle, and my adoration for him is limitless. Whoever made him did the best days work of their life.
You’d probably be about 12 now. This is when the trouble is going to start. You’re going to doubt your appearance, and heavily so. I promise you, you are beautiful. I won’t ever let you think any different about yourself. You don’t need approval or taunts, you just need to know it. You are beautiful, and you always will be. I mean beautiful inside and out too. Remember it isn’t all about how shiny your hair is or how white your teeth. You need to be kind, and patient, and gentle with people. You need to listen and not just wait for your turn to talk. You need to apologise when you’re wrong and said things you didn’t mean. Groups of girls are hard work, scarier than facing a tank, and you are going to fall out all the time and fight about nothing. You are going to say you hate each other when the truth is really far from that, and they are going to gang up on you and not talk to you for a bit. I hope you’d remember that I will always be there, and you can tell me all about it. I won’t laugh or tell you it doesn’t matter, because it matters so much at the time. It will be all right in the end, and I’ll make you a hot chocolate and we can watch Mary Poppins, and you can forget how horrible growing up is, just for a bit.
The boys are going to factor in right about now too. You’re probably going to get rejected by a boy, and you are going to be so upset. You won’t understand at the time that you can’t actually make yourself like someone, and if you don’t, you just don’t. Doesn’t mean you’re ugly, or fat, or stupid. He just doesn’t. Or she, or both. You might be a bit too young for this, but while we’re here, I don’t mind who you like. As long as they’re lovely to you, they can be orange with green spots and I would still welcome them with open arms. I will love you unconditionally.
Puberty is horrid, and you’re going to hate it. Whatever happens, people will mock you. If you grow too fast or too slow, it’s going to suck. You are going to get spots, hairy armpits, smell weird, and have greasy hair. But don’t worry about it, because I will help you. You can talk to me about anything that you need to know, and I will sort it for you. Yes you are going to have a period every month until you’re around 55, I am sorry. But again, just give me a nod and I’ll make you a hot water bottle and you can go to bed with a book and I promise, it will all seem better in the morning.
If you’re like me, you’ll probably going to be quite a chubby teenager. Really, everyone in the world is so hung up on weight. It doesn’t matter. If people call you fat, let them. It doesn’t matter what they think. It matters what you think. If you think you’re fat, then we can address that. If you’re happy, I’m happy.
I am also in full support of any piercings, weird hair colours and unusual clothes that you want. Your Mum was a rebel and I fully support you being one too. Yes you can start getting tattoos when you turn 18, it’s your body. I won’t stop you. I always hoped we could talk about music and you can listen to my old punk vinyls. I should imagine that you would want to rebel in the opposite direction and would tell me you “Hate all that stuff”, leaving your hair its natural colour, and your face make-up free, because that’s what teenagers do.
By the way, me saying this doesn’t change the fact that you would have hated me. And you would have. You would have despised me, probably for quite a few years, because I’m your Mum and therefore a permanent embarrassment and source of shame. You are going to have really vicious fights with your friends, it might even get physical. You’re going to experiment with drinking, drugs and smoking, and I will stop you even though I will be a hypocrite doing it. Just be safe for me, and then go have fun with your friends, and tell Lucy I said to apologise for yanking a clump of your hair out.
You are going to get your heart broken. Probably more than once. It’s going to hurt like hell baby. Young love does really half kill you. But, whatever passes between me and you, whatever harsh words we say, I will be there for you. You can talk to me if you want to. I do remember how it felt, and I really did think the whole world was ending. It gets easier over time. I will hold you when you’re crying and I will take your phone off you if people are picking on you over the internet, which they will do. You better believe I will protect you until the last breath leaves my body.
When you’re an adult, I hope we can be friends. I hope you find someone to move out with, be it a friend or a lover. I hope you go to university if you want, or don’t if you don’t want. I hope you don’t forget me. I will still be on the end of the phone, day or night, if you need help. Your Dad is too, although really he’s your man for more practical things. Broken heart, call me. Broken gas boiler, call your Dad. You are probably going to get your heart broken again, but I will help you through it, and you will learn that you can’t make someone love you when they don’t. Never apologise for what your heart wants. You don’t control it. You Dad and I will come and see you whenever you want, or you can come and see us. It’s fine either way. We don’t mind what you do, if you get married or don’t, if you have children or don’t. As long as you’re happy, we’re happy. If you’re not, come and tell us, and we will do whatever we can to fix it.
I would have been a useless mother. I’m grumpy and solitary, and I don’t talk for hours on end because I’m reading. I smoke and eat too much, and don’t do any exercise. I care little about my appearance. I am a jealous, nasty, petty, rude, arrogant person. I have a few friends whom I adore, and your Dad, who is worth his weight in gold. However, I would have adored you, if you existed. But I know deep in my heart that I would have let you down, so this really is for the best, trust me.
I am sorry that we didn’t get to meet. You would have had quite a life, I think.
