What if it was us?

Dear Solomon,

Having you has been the most amazing, joyful and life changing event, which I couldn’t even fathom. But with all the joy comes incessant worry, because as your dad says, “I’ve never had anything to lose before.”

I’m a worrier by nature, and I worry infinitiely more now, that you are in our lives. You are so sweet, precious, and still very helpless. You have your whole life ahead of you, and you are like a blank canvas who can become anything you ever wanted. And I worry about the ways your canvas will get filled — the ways in which the world around us will shape you. I wonder how different the world will be a year from now, 5 years from now, 10 years from now. I wonder how your dad and I will respond to the world around us, and how our response will affect you. The beautiful and scary thing about life is that you have no idea what will happen.

But I have to tell you that recently, the world has started to feel more unsettled than it used to. And that scares me because I don’t know if I can always keep you safe. As a non-mother, I always knew that no matter what happened, I would be OK. I’m very resilient, and have been through some difficult things already, which gave me the courage to know that I will be OK no matter what life throws at me. Now that you are here and I’m your mom, I’m not always so sure.

All of a sudden, my view is longer and much more future-focused. I consider the world not just as it is and could be in my lifetime — but as it will be for you, long after I’m gone. And sometimes I think: “What did I bring you into?”

I think about the (in)stability of the world…

Just like everyone else I know, I’ve been following the refugee crisis with utter disbelief and heartbreak. I am haunted by photos of families and kids — little babies like you! — who not only had their entire lives torn from them, but who now have no place to go. I think of them every night and I cry into my pillow often. As a mom, I can feel the pain of mothers leaving their war-torn countries under such extreme duress and facing a very uncertain future. I can’t even begin to imagine what they are going through mentally — caring for their children in those circumstances, not losing hope, and grappling with an intense emotional burden of uncertainty. I imagine often what I would do in that situation and how I would feel — and routinely question whether I could even handle this at all. Except for me, it’s a hypothetical — while for these families, it’s their reality, today, right now.

I can feel the heartbreak in my bones, but I also realize that I can’t even begin to imagine what that feels like from my very priviledged vantage point. At the same time, I realize that there’s very little that stands in the way of our entire life going away in one fell swoop. I can’t help but think: “what if it was us?”

I know it will soon feel like a distant memory we can laugh about, but the current presidential election is quite anxiety-inducing. As I watch our country hurl towards unrest and mutual cruelty, I can’t help but wonder what life here will be like in 5 years? 10 years? Will we collectively betray our American values of tolerance and democracy to the point where it becomes unlivable?

Will our elected officials continue to betray us and public interest? What happened in Flint, Michigan — — What if it was us? It could very easily have been us, and there wouldn’t be a thing we could do about it (we probably wouldn’t even know it was happening).

So now as I look upon my life, I ask myself what I can do to make things better for your generation. I don’t know the answer yet, but it’s making me look at things differently.

I think about economic and financial threats…

I think about the future of work, and how most jobs we know today will become obsolete and commoditized. Will your dad and I be able to pivot quickly enough to provide a good, stable home for you? Will rent prices in San Francisco keep climbing to the point where we’ll have to leave? Where will we go? What will happen to us if one of us gets hurt and can’t work? What if one of us gets sick and we go bankrupt? There are too many stories of people who have everything one minute, and have nothing the next. And I wonder “what if it will be us?” — knowing full well that there is very little that separates us and them.

I think about the education bubble and how it’s going to pop imminently. I think about the unsustainable cost of education that plummets young people into debt the minute they graduate and the very sad state of the economy we are leaving for your generation (well, not us really — mostly people before us :). I worry about strapping you with a financial burden, while also teaching you how to take control of your life (hey, I’m still paying off my college loans, and I’ve turned out OK :) I think about all the lives ruined by debt, and I can’t help but think “what if it will be you? how can I help it not be you?”

I think about physical and emotional safety and the existential risks to all humans…

I think about all the school shootings, and all the douchebags (mommy can say “douchebag” because she’s an adult) who insist on carrying guns for absolutely no good reason. And then I just don’t even want to think anymore because it’s too scary. I start thinking about home-schoooling you :)

I think about you growing up into a young man, in an overly sexualized world, where sex is a commodity and rape culture is prevalent. I read about terrible things young boys do to young girls and I wonder how effective I’ll be at fulfilling my duty to bring up a gentleman. I think about how easy bullying has become with the use of technology — and I remember vividly how torturous my high school years were, even without any technology. I wonder how I can give you confidence to not be tortured by your peers, like I was — and I wonder how I can instill the right values in you for you to speak up about injustices you see.

I think about climate change, and how quickly we are hurling towards our own destruction. I can only hope that humanity takes back the reigns from stupidity. I wonder how it’s gonig to affect life for your generation and your children’s generation, how many more wars will be started because of dwindling resources on our planet. I worry that I won’t be able to keep you safe.

I worry about the world you are inheriting is so difficult, so uncertain and so frought with pessimism. I worry that your generation will never experience some of the carefree joys that our generation did — being the latchkey, “free range” kids that we were.

I also worry that by me worrying, I may transfer some of my anxiety onto you. I worry that by worrying about the future, I am robbing us of the present. So I will try not to worry anymore, and try to find my old fearless, resilient self (and maybe I’ll ask your dad to stop playing the news :). Because you deserve a mom who is a fearless badass, even if she now has everything to lose.

I don’t know if I can ever keep you safe. I can’t guarantee that we’ll always live a comfortable, sheltered life we enjoy today. But I can guarantee that I will always do my best. I will wake up every single day from today until I take my last breath, working my ass off (yes, I can say that word also), to ensure that none of the “what if”s ever become real. And if they do, we’ll just deal with it. Because we will be fearless badasses together.

I love you,

Mommy