Naive Hope

“Oh, Baby, the Places You’ll Go!” A story I’ve been reading to my daughter every night since I first found out I was pregnant. A book, chosen at random, because I liked the picture on the front and Dr. Seuss stories were nostalgic for me. A book about all the magic and challenges life may bring. As I read each word, I pour all of my hopes and dreams into this little girl, imagining the amazing life ahead of her. Desperately creating a connection with her, wanting her to know my voice when she is born. I read it so often I memorise the words on each page, eventually reciting it to her from start to finish anytime I feel the anxiety creep into my body, worrying about my little one as each day passes. No one ever told me how hard pregnancy would be, how it would kick your anxiety into overdrive, how the stress of work would spill into your thoughts as a mother, as you navigate how to be a mom, because for you it started the moment you found out you were pregnant.

“You will find that this world’s a great place to begin, but it could use some help, which is where you come in.” I wonder at these words, thinking about all that is wrong with the world I am bringing her into. The doomsday of climate change, the discrimination she’ll experience as a woman, the rising political tensions all around us. “What am I doing?” I think to myself, “How can I bring a little life into this dark and scary world?” There goes my anxiety again. How can I think this is the right thing to do? Can I really expect her generation to save us all? The weight I am placing on her shoulders just by having her is so heavy, I hope she can rise to the occasion. Parents around the world place this weight on their children’s shoulders, leaving this broken world for the next generation to fix, to somehow know better than us on how to handle the planet and the problems that go along with it. Maybe this generation will be the one to end child slave labour, maybe they will be the one to find a way to live in synchronicity with our planet, rather than constantly being at odds with it, maybe they will find a way to achieve global peace, rather than battling with our international brothers and sisters as past generations have done for time immemorial. Maybe most parents don’t think like this, perhaps they simply go through the motions, or maybe it’s just my anxiety talking, sitting on my shoulder, like the devil whispering in my ear, giving me all the reasons why bringing life into this world is a terrible mistake.

Just as I begin my spiral into darkness my little one kicks, reminding me of the miracle of life growing inside me. I feel her start to somersault and wonder, can she feel my own darkness, my own anxiety and sadness through our connection? Is she already so wise and knowing, that she reaches out to me in her small way to let me know all will be well? And with that one small movement, I grasp onto hope. I turn an ear to the angel on my opposite shoulder and reach for her book, the one chosen at random, and as I recite the words, I can feel a sense of calm take over. “Baby, oh baby, the places you’ll go, the world’s you will visit, the friends you will know.” As I let myself fall into a rhythmic reading of the poetic words, I let go of my fear and cling to hope, perhaps a naïve hope, but hope, nonetheless. Hope that she, along with the rest of her generation, will make this world a better place.