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.