Dear Porter,

I was just on a very arduous run, when it occurred to me that I absolutely had to write you a letter. The fact that I wrote most of this in my head while pushing myself to exhaustion will become important, but I will not give it the power to overshadow the rest of this note to you. Just keep in mind that I have just returned home from said run, quickly grabbed a water bottle, and sat down to write this, as sweat is pouring off of my body, a leaky faucet, dripping nearly 30 years of self-defamation and tears.

The content of the material swimming around in my head was based off of a recent picture I saw of a little girl who decided to cut her hair short. Jada Pincket Smith’s little girl Willow did the same thing some time last year, as well, and the public response varied from outrage to incredible support. These little girls choosing to take control of their bodies at such a young age made me think about body autonomy and more importantly how are we, your mothers, going to handle it if you want to cut your hair short? How are we going to handle it if/when you want your first piercing or tattoo? My body has been pierced over and over again, and I will forever be covered in tattoos. Some of them I love, some of them I hate. All of them I chose. My body is also covered in scars. Scars from self-hatred.

And then it occurred to me…I do feel we have some obligation to keep you safe from choices you will regret. As a therapist, I know a bit about brain development. Until your brain is fully developed, and you can truly make decisions while understanding long term consequences, we will strongly encourage you to wait, or at least re-think your decision, when it comes to permanent changes like tattoos. I will not use the word “force” as I vow to never force you to do anything. This entire letter is about you and YOUR body, and the coolest part about having a body is that you get to make choices.

Oftentimes, the government tries to dictate the choices that we as humans make, (especially those of us with a female reproductive system or those of us who identify as gay, lesbian, bisexual, queer, genderqueer, or transgendred) but by the time you read this, I hope you will look up from this letter now, and ask “mommy, what do you mean, the government controls your body?” I hope that by then this concept is obscure and foreign to you. But I digress.

This letter is about you and your body autonomy. This letter is a promise to you not to make you hate yourself. I swear with everything in me that I will do everything I can to make you grow up differently than I have. See, my sweet Porter, I have been a prisoner in my own body since I can remember. I have never, not once, looked in the mirror and been happy with what I saw. I began dieting and using other methods to try to control my weight since I was 5 years old, because someone I cared about very much told me that I wasn’t thin enough. I was constantly compared to others, and I couldn’t stop trying to be something I would never become. I thought the skinnier I became, the more lovable I’d become.

The problem with striving to be or look like someone else, is that we lose ourselves in the process. I have been so obsessed with becoming skinnier for nearly 30 years, that I have no idea what it feels like to be authentically me. I promise to protect you from people who criticize you, to teach you the difference between confidence and cockiness, and make you as confident as you can possibly be, no matter what your size or shape.

Sometimes in the past, I’ve found myself becoming the person I resent. Becoming the person I blame for ruining me. I’ve even been so horrible as to say mean comments to your other mom. Comments insinuating my fear about her gaining weight. See, somewhere along the way, I became so phobic of fat that I let that fear dictate everything about my life. It dictates what I eat, how often I work out, when we go out, when we stay home, etc. The list goes on.

And you know what, Porter? I hate myself for it. I hate that I once, ever for a split second, hurt your other mom’s feelings, because she is so amazingly beautiful exactly as she is. Currently, she’s pregnant with you. You were supposed to come November 8th of 2014, but now your other mom is suffering from preeclampsia and we are planning on inducing her October 18th, 2014. Your other mom has gone through SO much carrying you. She’s been sick the entire pregnancy, but I know it will all be worth it.

You want to know why your other mom is carrying you, Porter? Because I am too scared to carry a baby. I know that I could never handle it psychologically, because of the weight gain. Your other mom and I decided to use my egg to bring you into this world, for a myriad of reasons, and I have never felt an honor larger than knowing that I can still be connected to you in this way. But the fact of the matter is, I could never do what she’s doing for you. Because of my own issues.

This is where the run becomes important. I was running because today is Sunday, and on this particular Sunday we are having friends over to watch the Broncos hopefully beat the Seahawks. On this particular Sunday we will eat unhealthy food, and I wanted to feel good enough about myself today so that I could eat this unhealthy food without unbearable regret. This is how obsessive I have become, how ruined I am. Thus, the irony of the whole thing. The more I thought about you feeling anything but pure admiration for yourself, the harder I sprinted. The more I thought about how badly I needed to write you this letter. The more desperate I became for you to love yourself and know that you get to make your own choices about how you feel about yourself.

As a therapist, I work day in and day out with people who hate themselves. Given my area of expertise, generally my clients hate themselves because of their sexuality. Either they experience internalized homophobia, or they are too scared to be authentically them because of real and perceived societal consequences. Many of these individuals remain closeted for life, because they cannot bear the thought of being themselves, exactly as they are. This is where I can relate to my clients immediately.

Speaking of closets, currently yours is filled with pink clothes, but that’s not because we are trying to enforce some societal gender roles on you before you even get here. It’s because many baby clothes are pink. And they happen to be adorable. You also have blue clothes and yellow clothes and grey clothes. But as you get older, you get to pick the colors you want to wear, and if you wear pants or skirts. And it gets to be OK if you want to alternate. You don’t ever have to decide who you want to be, because I want you to be ever-evolving. Don’t get stuck in any dichotomy, unless that’s where you want to be.

Generally, I have found, that people who live on extreme conservative edges are scared to take up too much space. This world is filled with cis-gendered men who take up space. You, too, can take up the space you want, need, and deserve. Never be afraid to take up the space your body and mind warrant. Grey areas are temples, they allow for freedom of expression (be it of sexuality, gender, or anything else). Be punk one day and a ballerina the next. Just be true to you.

Some people won’t understand, but they aren’t the ones that matter. It takes courage to be different. Be courageous. It takes strength to stand out. Be strong. Speaking your mind makes you beautiful. Be beautiful. But above all else, be authentic. And don’t let us, or anyone else, ever, ever stand in your way.

The day I give you this letter will be the day I hear you say something negative about who you are. I hope with everything I have that you never, ever have to read this letter, sweet Porter.