What I Want For My Son

(I’m writing something every day for #100days. This is post 73/100.)

(I’m writing something every day for #100days. This is post 73/100.)

Hi Oscar.

If everything goes to plan, you’re just a matter of weeks away from meeting us. We’re just a matter of weeks away from meeting you!

You’ve been hearing our voices for a few months now. Mine’s the deep one.

That big hand you sometimes feel is mine. I can almost cup the whole of you right now. We love it when you stick your elbows out. I think we could feel your foot this morning.

I say ‘we’ love it, but your Mum is the one who who has to feel your little arm scrape down her side. Let’s just say she finds it wonderful in an uncomfortable way.

It’s surreal to think that you’re in there, fully formed, and we’re out here, just waiting.

We’re about to cross the rubicon with you buddy — your Mum’s about to do something superhuman so we can get you out here.

We’re both a little nervous, a little anxious about all that.

But I think just meeting you is going to make it all worth it. (That’s easier for me to say than it is for your Mum).

Before you get here, and things go inevitably crazy for a little while, I thought I’d let you know some of the things I’m thinking about right now.

I thought I’d let you know what I want for you.

I want you to eat like your Mum. Lots of fruit and vegetables and excitement for just about every meal. In this world, you’ll do well to avoid your Dad’s sweet tooth.

I want you to run like me. It’ll solve a lot of problems for you one day.

I want you to be confident in yourself. Whoever you are, whatever you end up being curious about, I want you to know that I’m going to support you. As soon as you can, I want you to listen to yourself and trust what you hear.

I want you to love some of the things I do, so we get to share them. Running, music, rugby league, bakeries and basketball. But I’m just as excited to learn about the things you love, and share them with you too.

I want you to enjoy the process. Whether it’s learning, or building, or just chipping away. I want you to know that the inputs are what matter. If you get them right, the outputs will take care of themselves.

I want you to be patient. Impatience has brought me undone before and if I can help you avoid that mistake, I will.

I want you to know the outdoors. I want you to know what it is to swim in a creek, and jump off a rock, and race bark boats in a swift current. I want you to know what the Southern Cross looks like, and how the Milky Way gets smeared across the black, star-filled sky.

I want you to learn what not to tolerate. There’s good pain, like the ache in your legs when you run up a hill. And there’s bad pain, like the burn of steam rising from a boiling kettle. All through your life, you’ll come across pockets of pain, and struggle, and hardship and difficulty, and I want you to learn which ones to stay with, and which ones to pull away from. I’ll help you with this one. Mum will help you too.

I want you to know the ocean. I want you to grow up around it, respect it, make it part of who you are. If you know the outdoors and the ocean, you’ll never lose sight of yourself amongst the little things.

I want you to grow up surrounded by your family. I want you to learn from your uncles how to be tough and cool, how to cook, how to design houses and build bridges. I want your Aunties to teach you about ceramics and fine art, neo-liberalism and the value in having a hard conversation. I want them to teach you how to stand up for what you believe in.

I want you to spend as much time as you can with your Grandma and your Papa. That’s precious time. I want you to have as much of it as possible.

I want you to know that even though your Grandpa and your Nanna died already, they would have loved you to pieces. You can still see the best parts of them in your Mum and Dad. You won’t have to look too hard.

I want you to love your Mum. She’s the best person I know. I want you to go through life knowing she thinks you’re special. I want you to know that if you have to go through the fire, you’re not going to be burned because you are complete, and you are together.

I want you to know that, in some ways, you’ve already won. Your Mum and I are both here. We love each other. We’re really happy. In a world of possibilities, you get to be Australian. You’re going to have untold opportunities laid out before you.

Whatever happens, it’s going to be OK.

I want you to know your Mum loves you.

I want you to know that I love you.

I want you to know you deserve to be loved.

See you soon little boy.

We can’t wait to meet you.