I’ve been meaning to write you this letter for a long, long time, ever since your mom found out you were growing inside of her belly. I’ve waited until now, her 38th week of pregnancy because every time I attempted to write something addressing you I couldn’t stop crying. Specially about a month or so ago, when I found out I wasn’t going to be there to see you being born.
Anyway, here I am. Nice to meet you – I’m your auntie Carol.
I live in Brazil now, I just moved back home. I met your mom almost six years ago. She was so young she couldn’t even buy a pack of cigarettes. I couldn’t even buy beer. I know, I know, I shouldn’t be talking about cigarettes in a letter to a newborn, but I would like to introduce you to an idea you’ll probably be used to by the time you learn how to write your own name: I’ll probably be the one grown-up talking about subjects and saying things around you that no one else will. Not because they don’t like you, or because they don’t want you to learn, but because your auntie right here has got very little sense. I embarrass your mom very often.
So back to the cigarettes – don’t smoke, those things are bad for you and they’ll make your teeth look really yellow as if your mom’s boobs were producing coffee. Just don’t do it. And if you drink, do it moderately and save yourself some trouble. SO - when I met your mom, she was the most quiet, most fish-out-of-the-bowl person in the room. It just so happens that I was growing into a social butterfly, and I started making conversation. I took her to a party with me where she met some crazy Russian friends I had, then she spent the night at my apartment and she’s been my sister ever since. That's it in a nutshell.
You know, Jojo, you’ll meet tons of people in this life as you get older, and you’ll become close to a lot of them, but from most you’ll end up growing apart. Sometimes because of age difference, others because of geography, or maybe for things you won’t be able to explain… believe me, life will give you plenty of reasons to leave people behind. But very few of them - maybe one or two - will become your insides. And to those, Jojo, you should hold on. That's what your mother is to me.
This person will know you inside out. She will know if you are mad, or sad, or tired, or hungry, all of those things just by looking at you. This person will laugh with you, even cry with you if she has to. Your mom and I have done both a lot. Mostly laugh, and sometimes for no reason at all. You’ll laugh at jokes that no one else will understand, and those are usually the funniest ones. Your mom and I have plenty of those. We have also cried, and those times only brought us closer.
When we found out she was pregnant, I have to be honest – I wished you were a boy. You know, we girls get to an age where we become annoying and we usually start worrying too much about what we wear, about what we look like, and we may become spoiled and next thing you know, that little girl who was the cutest thing on the face of the planet becomes a monster dressed in very skimpy clothes.
But you, as you started growing in your mom’s belly, you actually started growing on me. I know that being your mom’s daughter will automatically give you an edge and I’ll end up adoring you. Your mother is truly like no other, Jojo. She’s one of the most inspiring women I have ever met, and she has so much to share with you. She’ll teach you about being different from everybody else - you will never blend in, because your mom is not that type. She’s Akira. She’s smart, she’s wise beyond her years, she has a desire to learn from the smallest things that I have never seen before. She’s also kind, sometimes too kind. I often tell her she gives people too many chances, but the thing is, after saying what I have to say – and I say a lot! – I always end up learning from her.
The day she found out you were a girl, I went out to my favorite store, Target (you should go, they are great and affordable; save your money to travel and to live life) and bought you a basket full of clothes and baby things. Not one thing in that basked was pink. I wanted to buy you blue things, and yellow things, and green things, because I knew if there was one person in the world who would appreciate that, that would be your mom. Then the baby shower came and people showered her with pink stuff, as one would expect, but I know that when she sees you with your tiny colorful onesies, she will be laughing inside thinking of the days we talked about how we know you won’t be the average girl. I know you will be different; you will be outstanding like her.
I’m sorry I won’t be there to see you the day you decide your mom’s womb is too small for you. One of the saddest days of my life was the day I had to see your mom walking out of my apartment crying, with that big old belly, after saying goodbye to me, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to feel you move in there like you always do. Your mom and I would sit on the couch for hours in a row waiting for you to move around. She would poke her belly to wake you up and that always freaked me out. The first day I actually felt you move against the wall of her belly, you scared the bejesus out of me. I had never felt a baby kick like that. But then I got used to it, and I started learning how to find you in her belly, and I would try to figure out if that was your elbow, or you knee, or your head.
Now the next time I’m there, I’ll actually be able to see you and pick you up, without the membranes and months that were between us. I’ll probably make weird noises and faces just to see you smile, and I know I shouldn’t do that, after all I am the auntie who goes against the grain. But I won’t resist, so please forgive me in advance. With time, I’ll get to know you, you’ll get to know me, and maybe your mom will let you spend some time in Brazil and you’ll learn Portuguese. I want to offer you the world, Jojo. Know that I’m always here for you, whenever you need. Whether you're five, twenty five or fifty. After all, you are the first little girl I learned to love even before I met you. You already have with you a BIG part of me.
Love,
You auntie Carol
