I have so much love I want to share. I want to see my child grow. I want to experience life through his or her eyes and see the world as new and exciting. I want to share the joy of the little things.
I loved taking my nephews to see my alma mater and taking them to museums and zoos and shows and can’t wait to do that with my own child.
I want to share my world view and life philosophies. I want inspire my child to imagine and do great things. I want to hold my child in my arms and stare into his or her face and sing it lullubies (I sing badly and off-key, but he/she won’t complain, I bet). I want to be surprised by the crazy things he or she says.
I want to see the joy on the face of my child and my mother as they play together. I want to see my nephews and my brother be the older gentlemen looking out for the well being of my daughter or teaching my son about “manly things”. I want to have my child look at me and know that no matter what I will do everything in my power and maybe more to love and care for and protect him or her.
I want surround my child with an extended “family” of friends with different races, incomes, beliefs and types of families. I want my child to know that love comes in many forms and that my love for him or her is unconditional. That I loved my child before I conceived him or her.
I want to rock my child to sleep in the rocking chair my mother has passed down to me from her grandfather. I want teach my child to swim. I want to come home from work to make dinner, bath my child and then read bedtime stories as he or she falls to sleep.
I know I will gain so much from being a mother and I am so anxious to get there.