This is the second letter I'd be writing to you. The first time, you were just a concept. I wasn't married, I hadn't even thought of what pregnancy would be. I was just a confused post-grad with no job and even fewer prospects. This time, this time's different. This time I've thought about you for longer than the time it takes to write an article. I've imagined holding you, being a mother, your mother. Today, everything is in flux. I've gotten more needles prodded in me in one month than in my entire life, and I'm still no closer to figuring out what's wrong with me. On days like this when I'm about to lose hope, I remember what this is for. At least, I think that's what I'm supposed to tell myself. The truth is, I'm no quitter. That's all that keeps me going—my stubborn, STUBBORN head. I need to see this through. I need to tell myself that I tried. Would you be surprised to hear that I'm in over my head? I'm at a new job (an upgrade from jobless), and EVERYDAY seems to be a challenge, and not always the good kind. I tell myself that I can do it, that I didn't bullshit my way into a job that I'm not qualified for. I remind myself that I'm actually very good at a lot of things, and I just need to apply myself. The truth is, even though I'm scared, for the first time in a while, I feel sure about my career pathway. It still sucks, and I'm closer to the bottom of the ladder than the top, but at least I'm climbing the ladder. Dear future child, For the first time in my life, even through all this, I have hope. The waters seem murkier than the floods in Lekki, but I finally feel like an adult. I feel like someone with a whole life ahead of her, a life she can shape into something brilliant. People always said that after 25, you get a lot of clarity. Mine kicked in 2 years late, but it's finally here. I don't know how long this burst of good sense will last, so I'm using it as quickly as possible. I have plans now. I have bigger hopes and dreams than I've ever had. I think it's because of you. The more real you feel, the clearer my head is. Dear future child, I don't actually know when I'll get to meet you. In a year? More? I hope it's sooner rather than later. I have so much I want to teach you. I want to watch you grow, to hold your hand through when you need me, laugh and cry with you. But most of all, I want to experience you. Dear future child, The first time I wrote to you, I didn't know what I was doing or where I was going. I had more questions than answers. Now, I still have questions. They might even be bigger than others. But you're my light at the end of the tunnel. So come quickly, mama's waiting.

During morning prayers sometimes, you would hear my mother clap. Once. Twice. Three times. Each clap was for a time she caught one of us asleep or dozing off. Oftentimes after these incidents, my father would lecture us on the importance of prayer in forming our future, and how we need it to order our future paths or else life may prove too difficult to handle. "I cannot help you forever", he would say. "One day, you will leave my house, and you will have to make your own decisions for your life. You cannot keep sleeping during prayer". I am already at that point, standing at the threshold of my forever and I am afraid. I am afraid of a lot of things; like cats, insects that crawl on their bellies, and the sound my feet make when they lift off of my wet flip flops. But most of all, I am afraid that my choices will either make or mar me for good. It is this fear that has kept me motionless, never venturing out to find the thing I love, never wanting any form of uncertainty. It is this fear that makes me hold on so strongly to the concept of dissatisfied stability. I have read all the self help books, or maybe not all of them, and they all talk about finding purpose and dedicating your life to the pursuit of the thing that you love and I wonder, what if you don't know what you want? What if what you want is a simple stable life and the uncertainty of purpose scares you? I want you to know that you are not alone, because there are a lot of us unsure, reluctant people, people who would rather settle for now, and there is nothing wrong with you. I still think about my future when I hear my mum clap, still get that feeling of trepidation like bugs in my stomach but I remind myself that it is okay to not know, it is okay to be unsure. Maybe one day.