Dear Future Child
The author with her niece and her brothers (nephews) at Seal Beach, California, October 2018. Photo/Afsha Bawany.
By Afsha Bawany
Dear Future Child:
I have never changed a diaper. I mean, actually I probably could—and I’ve had a lot of opportunities to participate in such an activity. But I don’t want to. Because in some weird way, I want that experience with you. I don’t want that practice.
Of course, there isn’t a class I could take to practice being a parent. But in my world, it seems like the motherhood party invitation keeps coming my way. I got an Evite to a “motherhood party” once (it was a baby shower). And I received diaper coupons, and a box of infant formula with a coupon for it addressed to me. Some of those advertising algorithms are kind of off. Or are they?
I’m an only child. However, I have lots of cousins, many of whom have kids. The cousins have made me an aunt. My niece calls me on FaceTime and text messages me: “I called you like two times. Where are you?”
Oh, the guilt that comes with not responding to my nieces and nephews in time is real. Like, legit real. And the happiness I feel when my niece tries to locate me, is like....it’s like that smiley-face emoji – the one that’s blushing. LOL. Oh, LOL is what we say when we mean laugh out loud. I do hope you will learn to use your words, but you may have to also learn emojis. Apparently when you learn those, you have learned the new science of language. That’s another thing, I’ll probably buy you a dictionary for your first birthday – don’t be mad. It’s making a comeback.
As kids get older, I talk to them like I am conducting an interview, and I ask them questions because they are real people with thoughts and feelings and they’re rarely listened to unless they are asking the questions. Because–if they ask the questions–they’re guaranteed a response. For instance, when another nephew—10-years-old at the time—asked me on Facetime: “Where’s your dad?” I said my dad passed away. “Did I meet him?” he asked. I said no, but that my dad would have liked him very much.
I think about what it would be like to go with you to history-making events, and I wonder if there will be more for us to go to. Then, I think, there will be events. My mom and I went to events when I was a teen, and we still go to stuff like that. She’s my role model in whose steps I hope to follow.
You will read about our current moment in history, and I’ll tell you about it because I am documenting it now in case you ask me questions about what it was like to live through this experience. I imagine what you’ll ask and imagine being surprised at your questions.
In a video chat, where we discussed many topics—among them analyzing last year’s Avengers conclusion, and the time we went to the theaters to watch Into The Spiderverse together, my seven-year-old nephew told me Bruce Banner aka, The Hulk, was probably coming up with a cure for COVID-19.
I know that our conversations will be different. I don’t think you’d want me to interview you, but I’ve given you fair warning. And kids are funny. They’re smart and I find I learn something new when observing life through their eyes.
I was asked to host a Sunday book club for some of the nieces and nephews over a video chat during this pandemic. I had some prompts to get the conversation going and then switched to just giving the kids an opportunity to talk and those conversations proved insightful.
I have dropped off a friend’s kid to school in the morning, and I have carpooled cousins to after-school activities. I’ve wondered if the school transportation pick-up and drop-off situation could be improved. So a bit of that “momness” comes out, and I think, where’d that come from? Someone once told me to join the PTA to offer my ideas for school activities. For a second, I thought, I should do that! Then I realized, yeah I can’t do that. That would be weird.
I can talk to you about the students that I sometimes project my “momness” on to. God put me in a job where I see students grow up. I’ve watched students move into their dorm rooms, and I’ve answered the questions of nervous parents.
I wonder about how I interact with college students. I think they “should do this,” or “should do that,” and then I think they’re developing their own paths. They’ll get there—but it’s OK for me to guide them (if they ask). I want the best for them.
I want them to succeed, and sometimes I take on their hardships as they are mine. I pray for them to receive their internships, jobs, and scholarships. I often work at graduation ceremonies, and I’m still in awe of the whole experience.
I was at the Field Museum in Chicago a few summers ago. I went to the museum on my own, read the descriptions of panels, and sat through short movies. While there, I thought “I’d bring my kid here.”
I imagine I’d take you to big box stores and that you’ll be tugging on my clothes at Trader Joe’s.
I’ll tell you why I love the Red Rock Canyon and this desert I grew up in. This place, where you find solace and serenity among the vast open spaces, where the land seems to stretch forever. I’ll tell you how growing up in Las Vegas shaped my personality and life into defending the misunderstood and finding shared meaning.
I’ll tell you about going to Red Rock Canyon with your grandfather before he passed away. It was the first and last time he saw Red Rock although he had lived in Las Vegas for 28 years. I love the fact it was a spur of the moment trip because my dad was a planner, and I got that trait from him.
But why am I writing to you? Because I needed a reminder.
Women are each on a unique course in life. They are mothers, co-parents, workers, daughters, caregivers, activists, and super aunts. They work, volunteer, guest lecture, organize, and have a zest for helping others. They are rarely thanked. Their contributions to their communities are often overlooked. Women are defined by the relationships and experiences they have or do not have. I don’t have kids. I am not married.
Yet, dear beta...Beta—a word my mother and father called me. It can mean son in Urdu but is used affectionately for daughters and sons. I was not called Beti (the traditional word use for daughter). I am their Beta.
Beta….I don’t know if I will meet you in the here and now. But I am confident I will meet you in the hereafter. I do know that in thinking about you; I know my value is not determined by whether or not I will be a mom. I realized that in thinking about you—all the things that I’ve done and all the things that God willing, I will do—it has driven me to serve the Lord Above.
Photo/Afsha Bawany.
Afsha Bawany was born and raised in Las Vegas, Nevada (UNLV). She is Director of Communications for the University of Nevada Las Vegas’s Greenspun College of Urban Affairs. Afsha graduated from Northeastern University with a bachelor's degree in journalism. She earned her master's degree in urban leadership from UNLV. She is a former reporter and forever a writer. Her articles have appeared in The Boston Globe, Las Vegas Sun, Henderson Home News, Las Vegas Review-Journal, The Orange County Register, Las Vegas Business Press, Desert Companion Magazine, The Huffington Post, and Patheos.
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