The Soldier Next Door

…Ana POV…

Life can be so unpredictable sometimes.

You always seem to think that you have everything planned down to the very last moment, the very last detail with absolute perfection. You have your plans laid out and know when to expect what it is that should happen in your life at a certain time.

But then you make one reckless decision, and everything gets thrown out of balance. The unexpected seems to follow you around the corner, and your life is in turmoil for the bad choices that you have made.

If I had been more cautious and not acted on impulse, I would not have gotten into that car like a maniac and put the lives of not only myself but that of my child in danger. So taken that each cause has a reaction, here I find myself as a direct result of something that I could have handled in a far better way.

But life does not always go as planned, and I can say that this is one plan that I am happy that did not go as it was supposed to play out. As I sit here and I look over at Ethan that has not taken his eyes off our newborn son, there is a great peace that settles over my heart.

For once, I can say that I am complete in more than one way.

But I need to make a promise to my son that I will never act in that way again where I have put him in danger.

If I could write a letter to my child, what would I say?

You are only but a few hours old, so there are only a few things we know about you. Your hair would make a pop star jealous; all slicked down dark brown with frosted blonde tips. Your “poo face,” with your mouth drawn in an off-center O, could be a meme. You smell like cream and mint, and I’m sad I can’t bottle that scent and revisit it for years to come. And if sleeping were a competitive sport, you stand a good chance of bringing home some medals to adorn your nursery.

When we heard that you were going to be a boy, I confess that I was nervous. I know what it is to be a girl and a woman growing up in a man’s world.

What will your life be like?

Every day, like a book, I try and read another page of you so I can witness your plot unfolding. But right now, your story still largely exists in my imagination. You are a swaddled little bundle of potential, and the triumphs and trials of your future loom yet unknown. And yet, while your father and I don’t know whether you’ll prefer trains or banjos or playgrounds, while we don’t know what passions you’ll pursue or whom you’ll love, we talk about the values we hope you will live. Because they are on us to demonstrate. Because it is our responsibility to help you shape them.

I hope, first and foremost, that you will understand where you came from. You came from a mom and dad who were Marines; in fact, your father is still much very one. And even a greater fact is that he will be leaving us soon to go back to that battlefield that he loves almost just as much as he does you. It is his passion, and I know, even though it is hard to see him go for a little while, that it means the world to him. So there will be times that your dad will not be around, but it is not because he does not love you; he merely has a job to do for the country that he loves.

Who knows, perhaps one day you will follow in his footsteps.

I hope that you will always harbor a deep curiosity for the world. I don’t doubt that you will learn much in the span of your years, but the universe is vast compared to the tiny speck that is human knowledge. It may be tempting at a certain point to pronounce yourself “made” — an expert, a fully realized individual — but I hope your ego never prevents you from undertaking the hard, tangled, and often unglamorous task of gleaning for truth. Take time to behold the wonder of the universe; be humbled by all the ways you are still a beginner.

I hope you will be wrong many, many times because you tried. I hope you can admit your failures and apologize to others when you are at fault so that past mistakes hold no power over you. I hope you revel in the journey and not just the results because it is in that path of growth and mastery that one’s story is made.

And finally, I hope that no matter what, you can hold these two truths in your heart at once: that the world is beautiful beyond imagination and that it is woefully short of perfect. No matter how good or bad things are, it can be better, and it can be worse. How you feel and what you make of it will be a matter of perspective, and the greatest battles you fight will take place inside your head.

The art of living well, then, lies in the balance of these two truths. May you find joy in the simple, everyday moments: the gentle undulation of your baby’s breath, the laughter over a dinner table, the sweet taste of summer fruit. May you hold fast to hope and optimism, even when other people disappoint you and break your heart, as surely they will. But may you also recognize that at every moment, there is suffering that can be reduced, an injustice that should be questioned, and a better future that you can run towards.

As you lay sleeping next to me, your little fist barely bigger than my thumb, I am grateful that you are here, and I am overjoyed to be your mother.

As I am saying this, you’re too little to understand any of this right now. You’re asleep in your crib, and I just keep thinking about how lucky I am.

Not just to be a mom but to be your mom. I think a lot about what it means to be a mom; I think about all the ways in which I fall short, and I think about all the ways that I thrive.

I’m an imperfect person, so it stands to reason that I will never be a perfect mother, but when you wake up, I know that I’ll walk into your room and give you a good morning kiss, and you will smile at me, and I’ll forget all the ways that I’m imperfect.

I will never stop trying to be the best mom I can be; I will never stop trying to be the mom that you deserve. So right now, I’m going to make some promises to you.Content (C) Nôv/elDra/ma.Org.

I promise to love you no matter what mood you’re in.

I promise to let you make a mess and explore the world around you.

I promise to treat you with kindness.

I promise to snuggle with you when you’re not feeling good.

I promise to be present in your life, not just physically but emotionally as well.

I promise to not give in to your every whim but instead to make you smile when I can, but also say no when it means turning you into a well-adjusted adult.

I promise to laugh with you and sometimes at you and to help you learn to laugh at yourself because that’s the only way to get through this thing called life.

I promise to help you experience new things.

I promise to be honest with you, no matter how tough it might be.

I promise to protect you from the hard things as much as I can, and during the tough moments that I can’t shield you from, I promise to help you get through it.

I promise to try to understand your feelings, and if I can’t understand what you’re feeling, I promise to at least respect the way you feel.

I promise that I will try my best to make it so that you never feel alone in this world.

I promise to allow you to choose your own path, even if I disagree with it. I promise to teach you whenever there’s something to be taught.

I promise to learn from you.

I promise that whatever life throws our way, I’ll be standing right by your side.

I promise to do my best every single day, to be worthy of being your mom.

Sleep well, my little one. I can’t wait to get to know you tomorrow, and in all our tomorrows to come.

And as Ethan turns to me for so many times now with that smile that is completely contagious, he cocks his head and softly whispers to me, “Boo, what is his name going to be?”