I received your letter. By the time you read this, maybe I will be gone from your life. I hope not. In case I am still here, I am writing these words to beg you to change your mind.
In the first line of your letter you told me you could feel me. I can feel you, too. Not only can I feel you, but I can hear you and smell you and taste you. And I like you, Mama. I like the sound of your voice, and I like the way it feels in here when you walk and talk and laugh. You are already rocking me to sleep when I’m tired and waking me to eat when I’m hungry. You are my whole world, and it’s a world I am already learning to love.
I can tell from your letter that you’re frightened. I’m sorry, Mama. It must be very scary out there. I wish I could come right now and show you how much I love you. Maybe if I could you wouldn’t feel so alone. Just think what we could do together, you and I. I could teach you about love, and you could teach me about life. What a great team we would be!
You said in your letter that you want me to be happy. I believe you, Mama. But I think you don’t understand that there is no way you can promise me happiness. No matter how perfect your life is or how ready you think you are for a baby, there are no guarantees. It’s hard to be a parent. It’s hard, in fact, to be a human being. I understand that your life is complicated, and I would further complicate things. But I don’t think you realize all the ways I would enrich your days. If I were to join you out there, you would see the world as you have never seen it before. You would know a kind of love you’ve never known before.
Maybe you’re right, though. Maybe you’re really not ready for me right now. And if that’s the case, I would understand if you found a family that you think would provide all the things you want for me but can’t give yourself. In fact, that would be the most amazing love of all, and you would be my lifelong hero. If you were to make that decision at least we wouldn’t have to part so soon. I could feel you a while longer, and you could feel me, and we could create a bond that would not be broken by time or space.
Plus, you would be giving someone a great gift, the same way a great gift was given to you. Because you see, Mama, I was not an accident. I was a gift to you from God. He made me out of nothing, and then He gave me to you to grow until I am ready to be born. He will understand if you give me to someone else to love. So will I, and I will always thank and honor you for taking care of me until I move on to my forever family.
One last thing, Mama. In your letter you called me “Little Thing.” I wish you wouldn’t call me that, Mama. I’m not a thing. I’m a person, the same as you’re a person and Daddy’s a person. Right this minute, I have everything in me that I need in order to grow to adulthood. I think in your heart you know this, or else you wouldn’t have written me a letter. I think in your heart you also know that even if you end my life, I will always be with you. The thing is, Mama, if you do end my life, I am still going to be with you, but it will be in the form of regret, and guilt, and loss. I don’t want that for you, Mama. I don’t want to be the thing that causes you pain for the rest of your days. Instead, I want to be your gift of hope to a cynical world. Will you let me be that, Mama? Pretty please?