A letter to my daughter

Dear Palmer, Daddy and I know you’re strong. And it’s not just those little kicks, which get fiercer every day. As we prepare your nursery, draping tiny onesies on hangers in the closet, the outside world doesn’t look how we’d imagined.

When you get older, I can’t wait to tell you about the year you were born, to annoy you with it even. It’s the year of the pandemic. The year the country – the world – shut down, and all we can do about it is stay home. It’s like nothing we’ve ever seen, the generations before us, and even before them, keep saying.

You’ll be born into a place Daddy and I just met and are still trying to figure out. We’re new parents, tasked with helping you navigate a world we don’t yet recognize ourselves. And though we’re scared (and remember, it’s OK to admit you’re scared), we’re hopeful.

Because while the outside world feels like it’s falling apart, another world, the one within me, is coming to life. Your flips and kicks and tap-tap-taps remind me how new life can survive and thrive from even the hardest, darkest times. You grow a little every week, and so do we. We’re more aware of our connectedness than we’ve ever been, more ready to do whatever it takes to protect each other, to protect people we don’t know and probably will never meet.

Yes, you might be born in the midst of suffering and unknowns. But you’ll come out of it strong, brave and selfless, plus a million other personality traits we can’t wait to get to know.

There’s a lot of uncertainty right now, but if there’s one thing we’re sure of, it’s you. And already, we’re so proud of you. Love, Mommy