Dear Birthday Girl

         Hi Birthday Girl! Now don't freak out, but if you're reading our chicken scratch, it must be your, our, twentieth birthday. Ya, I know, twenty, wow! Your eyesight and brain synapses are not messing with you. I thought you'd be intrigued with a letter bearing a familiar handwriting. And oh, just to put it out there you will live far beyond that twenty I assure you. I know. It must seem bizarre to receive a missive from your future self, but, meh, it is what it is. This is straight up legit. I am writing to you, us. Unbelievable, right?

         Now I know it's already too late to convince you to delay, postpone, or reschedule our wedding. We did that at nineteen, didn't we? I'm not saying that was a mistake. As I compose this I am still happily married to our one and only. We, he and I, make a great team. I am suggesting however that perhaps you should not rush into parenthood. Notice I am not thinking the kids were a mistake, yes that is kids plural, but I am wondering if they could be born when you are a bit older. What's the rush? Once they're here that's it. There's no going back.

         You will still be a mother some day, there's no doubt about that. I'm living proof that you survive the experience without completely losing your mind, or all of your hair. Okay, full disclosure, the body you take for granted will alter. The shape, specifically the girth will expand along with your weight. It's not as horrible as these words paint it to be. Trust me, you will learn to accept and become comfortable in your own skin , skin that stretches temporarily.

         Becoming a Mom is not the issue. You, me, we love it. It's when you choose to start the process that I now believe could be delayed. Once you snuggle your firstborn everything changes. You cannot re-set the clock. That baby will demand so much of your focus. Are you prepared for that? That child does not arrive with an owner's manual. Motherhood consists of learning as you go, adapting, experimenting. Oh, and did I mention the constant sleep-deprivation?

         So, this is why I am writing to you on your twentieth. You've not yet plunged headfirst into that abyss. I've reached out to you before that momentous step into the unknown. Take a few more years to be you. The tiny attention, energy thieves can wait. Live a little. Travel. Write. Read. Fortify your relationship with your spouse, you won't regret it.

         Take it from me. It may sound like a cliche, or something a mother would say, but I am a mother, a seasoned veteran. You are only young once. This reality sneaks up on you. Soon enough you will be responsible and mature.

         Oh, and there's one more thing, a request really. Would you please attempt skiing? I've always wanted to race down a snowy hill with the wind in my hair. It's too late for me and our battered, surgical-warrior knees. Oops! That slipped out. Don't worry about that. You're tough. I've already said enough.

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