Hi son,
This is, well… kind of a letter to you. Back in the old days—like, when I was a kid—people actually wrote letters to other people. Like, on paper. With pens and pencils.
These days, not so much. And, well… you’re not born yet. But I want to write to you. You’re going to be born in an incredible time… when your mom and I were born, it was another world.
They didn’t even know enough about stem cells to try and save them for us, buy you’re going to have stem cells saved from your placenta when you’re born. When I was a kid, my vaccination records were scrawled on a piece of people; your mom’s vaccination records got lost. Lost. I expect by the time you’re old enough to read this, you’re going to have a complete record of your whole medical history, all the way back to when your mom started to feel weird and thought, “Hey… this couldn’t be morning sickness, could it?”
And I’m pretty sure you’re going to live in a world I don’t completely understand. I might be a science fiction writer (among other things), but the stuff going on in the world these days is even leaving my scratching my head at times.
I’ll be honest: I’m not just writing this for you to read it. I’m also writing it for me to think about how I’m going to be your dad. Most dads kind of deal with things when they crop up, but in my life I’ve learned that thinking about things ahead of time is a big help. Writing this might help be a better dad for you… and I want to be a good dad. I want to be a great dad. That’s what you deserve, since after all, we brought you into this world. You didn’t ask us for it, though I hope that you’re happy about the decision.
So, as I write this, right now, you’re about the size of a banana. You’re still inside your mom, and you look like this:
… or, at least, that’s how you look via ultrasound. You were moving a lot, so the picture looks kind of weird. But that’s you! Your heartbeat! Your little fingers and toes! And… were you smiling?
Man… that video is about three days old. The doctor gave it to us on a DVD… I wonder if you’ll remember DVDs when you read this. Anyway, you’re starting to kick a punch a little, in there. It’s still kind of roomy enough for that. Today—Friday, 19 June—we had BLTs and braised broccoli for lunch, and we’re going to go out for a walk. Some place near our apartment, here in Jochiwon, makes North-Korean styled mandu and your mom wants to try it. We’re still new enough in town to be figuring out what places nearby are good places to eat. I made some papadums and chana vada (Indian falafels) and we’re going to have coconut curry fish and more broccoli tonight, after the dumplings.
Why am I telling you this? Well… the main thing is, we’re thinking about you already. You’ve been in our minds, and changing how we live, for months now. You’re at about 20 weeks of life, now, and we’ve often made decisions based on what will be best for you. I’m not bragging or asking for an award, we’re supposed to do that. I just want you to know we’re already looking out for you, because, you know, I know we won’t be perfect in the future. But we’re coming at this with good intentions, with loving intentions.
Oh, and I mentioned the foods because… you tasted them today. You couldn’t remember, you won’t, but you tasted those foods in the amniotic fluid inside your mom’s belly. On 19 June 2015, it was BLT, broccoli, Korean dumplings, Indian chickpea crackers and fritters, a curry, some nasi goreng, and a lot of broccoli. (Your mom needs the iron!)
We’re excited. We can’t wait to meet you, when you’re ready to join us on the outside. But for now, I hope you’re comfortable in there, growing and developing, hearing our voices and other sounds.
Next time, I’ll tell you about how we got to Jochiwon, or Sejong City, whichever you want to call it. That’s a story worth telling.
Until then, I hope you’re healthy, and I’ll try hard to make sure your mom gets interesting and healthy foods both for you to taste, and to keep her healthy while you keep growing.
More soon!
Love,
Your dad