Dear Future Daughter,
There are some things I need to tell you.
The first thing I need to tell you:
Your name screams of a tortured soul, sent to be man's property.
When they tell you to be sweet, tell them no.
Tell them sweet is what put so many of your kind in places they do not belong or deserve to be.
When they tell you that you cannot acheive because you were born to carry children tell them no.
Tell them your body was made to endure and thrive through more than their tiny minds could comprehend.
When they tell you to be an Eve, tell them no.
Tell them you could never love an Adam as long as you shall live; tell them you were the first.
The second thing I need to tell you:
You did not come from my body,
Not because I did not love you enough to carry you myself,
But because I could not.
Not because the body you came from wanted to cause you pain,
But because you needed to be with me.
And I with you.
The third thing I need to tell you:
The world is so big.
And though some may tell you that you are small,
Remember this: You are a force.
There is a tattoo on your mother's hip.
You have seen it before, and soon you will learn what it means.
Soon, someone will tell you that you must sit off to the side, because you cannot dream of accomplishment.
You must remember the tattoo on your mother's hip that you will have read so many times.
You must stand on both feet and draw your shoulders back, you must look them in the face, and you must quote that tattoo: