Sometimes when I’m procrastinating, I flip around on Facebook or twitter and I see a lot of people answering the same question. One that recently struck me was “what would you tell the 16 year old you?” A lot of people said things like, “you weren’t fat” or “you’re never going to need to know the periodic table of elements” but I was stumped. Because really…the only thing the sixteen year old me would have wanted to know is if the thirty one year old me is happy. And there just isn’t a good way to answer that.
The other day I came across this picture of Mike and me. It was taken three days after we’d found out I was pregnant with Madeline. We hadn’t told anyone yet.
I remember how I felt – so excited and hopeful. It didn’t occur to me to be apprehensive, because I had no idea that just a few weeks after this picture was taken, everything would change – and not the way we were anticipating.
Of course I am happy – I have my husband and my younger daughter, and a lot of other wonderful things. But I am also wracked with terrible sadness and emptiness that will never go away. It’s a loaded mix of emotions that grieving parents have to carry with them every day.
The younger version of me had a master plan that I fully expected to go perfectly. I was determined to live up to the Most Likely to Succeed superlative that had been laid on me Senior year. Right out of high school I learned the lesson that being a control freak wasn’t going to be enough to keep things on course. At the same time, I never expected things would go so very wrong. But does anyone?
So, what would I say to the 16 year old me? Would I tell myself that I was going to suffer from the worst loss imaginable so I could be prepared? Or should I let myself continue to think everything was going to go my way? I honestly don’t know.
If you could go back and warn your younger self of impending doom, would you do it?
Heather says:
I think going back to telling 16 year old me that I would, in just 6 short years, experience a late term loss because I had cancer and would have to go through chemo would be a bad idea.
I think I fared better through these events because I had started them off with so much hope and promise. Knowing ahead of time would have changed who I was as a person, and not in a good way.
Backpacking Dad says:
Yes. Yes.
Sally says:
I’m stumped on this one as well, as I don’t know if I’d want to warn myself of what was coming or not.
I posted about many similar thoughts just yesterday. It was exactly 3 years ago this week I found out I was pregnant with my daughter who died. Our stories are so different, but that feeling of loss and emptiness is the same, and it is felt so much more acutely at this time of year. I’m happy my son is now safely here, but I just miss her. Plain and simple. And that never goes away.
I’m thinking of you and wishing this wasn’t your story.
xo
ps: this pic makes me want to cry and smile at the same time.
Lynn from For Love or Funny says:
I think it’s definitely a blessing that we don’t know what is ahead of us.
Nina says:
I have lived my entire life in the shadow of trauma and loss. Most often it was secondary loss – I was the surviving child (my mother had a number of still births and late miscarriages, my grandmother had already lost a son when he was a child) and then I got to live through bereavement, two wars, assault, betrayal, immigration. I lost a home, a language and was cast out into the world to fend for myself since before I was a teen. All that has carried with it an enormous grief and there were a number of years where I did not think I would survive it.
If I could go back to the summer of 1989 and talk to my 8 year old self – the girl who had no idea that her father was about to die very suddenly and that the world at large would go to hell in a handbasket not long after – I would want to warn and comfort her so I would say “There will be some difficult years ahead. But you will be protected and helped when you need it the most, and everything will be all right.” And then I would repeat that sentence many many times.
I am, and always will be, the person who has been touched and marked by profound loss. Professionally, this is generally an asset. Personally, it is not always so. Loss will always be a part of me. My father’s death was shocking and sudden. I had loved him more than anything in the world and I will grieve for him (in small or large ways) my entire life, which is all right by me.
Grief has not made me a better person, but it has forced me to grow in ways I otherwise wouldn’t have – just as being exiled long ago has. I am neither safe, nor comfortable but I am things I would otherwise not have been. I am closer to my authentic self, the core of me. In all this, she shines and some days the perspective from here is pretty amazing.
If more awful things are on their way, then frankly I would not want to know because the knowledge would drive me insane. I would only want to know that I could be awful but functioning, and that someday I would be able to lift my head above the storm of grief and breathe again.
(It helps though that I have a personal belief in the Afterlife, so that to me who was lost is not lost forever. We have simply been separated by circumstances and are living in different countries, without email. So we must be patient, but one day when I have lost my usefulness to the world all those I long for will still be there and I will meet them at the gate. I have no idea whether my belief is correct, only that it really helps me go on.)
Mia says:
That’s a good question….
It depends. Can we change the outcome if we warn our younger self of the impending doom?
If we could change the course of the future, absolutely. I’d warn myself.
But if I couldn’t change the future, I wouldn’t tell myself. Ignorance is bliss in this way; I wouldn’t want that awfulness looming over my life, acting as a happiness-sucker.
MD says:
It’s a tough one to answer, but I don’t think so. It’s like that song, ”
The Dance” by Garth Brooks. If you know, you might change everything and then…well then maybe you wouldn’t have known Madeline at all.
Chris says:
Heather,
This is a question I’ve given a great deal of thought. I wouldn’t tell my 16 year old self that in less than 2 years I would have a devastating injury that would forever alter my life. Because even though then it could have been prevented I never would have become who I am now without it. I certainly wouldn’t have taken a quarter off school for medical treatment during college, that coincided with letting me spend time with my dying grandfather. So, I’ll take living in pain everyday for the rest of my life over knowing and changing who I became.
On the flip side: I would definitely tell myself about my mom’s all too early death in hopes that maybe if her cancer had been found even a little earlier she’d have beaten it.
Amy says:
I’d tell myself to be strong because there would be bad as well as good times ahead. And I’d tell myself to connect with other strong people to help hold and support me at those worst times.
Big hug.
Kelly says:
What if you had warned your 16 year old self, and you never married Mike? Or never had Maddie?
I had my oldest daughter 2 months after my 18th birthday. She is now 18, and wonderful.
I have often seen these letters to 16 year old selves, and makes me wonder, what would I have told myself? Would I have still had my Mack?
I think all you can say to yourself is stay strong, you end up being a wonderful wife and mother, you have many friends, and algebra is stupid, and you’ll never use it again.
karen says:
Heck no, because if I knew, I don’t think I’de have had the courage to go through with the big decisions that led to having the family I have. And I think that would go for you too – Mike, Annie… and especially Maddie.
Margie says:
Hm. I wouldn’t warn 16 year-old me about the horrors that were coming. I think it helped me to be the person I am now. I would tell her that there is always a reason to get out of bed even if to feed the cat. It’s going to be hard but I’ll see her at the other end.
Also, skip The Spirit, The Avengers and don’t bother trying to make sense of Justin Bieber. It will pass. NKOTB forever.
Margie says:
Oops, hit SUBMIT before I was ready.
Just wanted to send you some hugs and warm thoughts. Love you very much, Heather.
Jenni Williams says:
I would not warn 16yo me. At 16 I was hanging on by a thread, my childhood was far from a soft place to fall. Life did get better in so many ways, my fantastic husband for one, but it got so much harder for other. Losing a baby in my second trimester and 5 more miscarriages after tested me in ways I didn’t ever want to.
Gemini-Girl says:
I wouldnt tell my 16 years old self anything. Not of impending doom either. ignorance is bliss. If a 50 year old me showed up to want to tell me of impending doom, I would not want to hear it.
Marsha says:
You have already succeeded so the senior you should be proud. If I could go back the only thing I’d tell my 16 year old self is that my parents really are right. All the time. And to listen to their advice.
J+1 says:
I love the movie “Peggy Sue Got Married” because, in the end, she realizes that even given the chance to go back and change things, she doesn’t really want to. I’m not sure I could be that wise, but I think the things that have happened to me, bad and good, have made me who I am.
It’s tempting to think about what could have changed had I known– and for you, Heather, the thought must be especially poignant– but I don’t know that I would tell myyounger self a darn thing. (Except, maybe, to lay off the ice cream.)
Deborah says:
No, I don’t think I would want the 16 year old me to know anything that was to come, just as I don’t want to the 31 year old me to know what is to come either. Thinking of you today as always!
(((hugs)))
jenny says:
I don’t think I would tell my 16 year old self details of impending doom, but I think I would say, ‘prepare yourself’. I guess things in my life took me so off guard, that it seems the smarter thing to be kinda prepared for bad stuff. But when I type that out, it just doesn’t sound right. I don’t think of myself as a pessimistic person, so maybe being on the lookout for bad stuff to happen would turn me into a pessimistic person…boy tough question. I guess no one can be prepared for what life throws at you, so maybe its just better to not know….
Violet says:
Wow. Tough question. At 16, I’d already experienced the biggest loss that I have to date. She already learned much to much about life’s fragility and that it sometimes ends much, much too soon. I wouldn’t want her to know about the coming battles and future losses though. She would be overwhelmed and totally discouraged. I’d want her to know that she WILL be all right though (and let her think I just mean from her current battles). I’d want her to know that she is beautiful, and strong, and that what she has already been through, will give her the ability to hold someone else in the midst of pain, and weep with them. Because the 16 year old Violet spent too many moments weeping in pain where others just didn’t know how to respond, or even if they should respond at all. She felt incredibly alone, and I would want her to know she wasn’t. I’d tell her not to despair, and that even though there is often sorrow in the night, Joy always comes with the morning….
Dawn says:
My situation is a little different. I lost my younger sister in a car accident when I was 18. She was 3 months shy of her 16th birthday. I might not have given details but I would have made damn sure that my 16 year old self knew how important it was to spend time with her annoying clingy 14 year old sister. All she ever wanted was to be my buddy/friend not just my sister. I always thought that would happen when we were grown. I would give anything to have just a taste of that relationship now.
LizL says:
Honestly, probably not. How could I live a healthy life (before the impending doom) knowing it was going to crumble before me. I would change everything in my power to make sure it didn’t get to that point, and that is no way to live.
It’s the same reason I decided against prenatal testing. If I had a 1 and 500 chance that my baby had down syndrome, all I would be able to concentrate was that less than 1% chance that my baby would have a tough life.
Lisa says:
I thought about that question a lot when it was floating around twitter. Would I tell my 16 year old self that in just 5 short years my dad would be gone or would I keep quiet. Truthfully, I don’t know. I know I would tell myself to be kinder to my dad, to let him in, to be his daughter. But, I don’t think I would hint at the grief that was to come, I don’t think it would help.
Jana A says:
First of all, big hugs to you and GREAT picture. But the innocence in your faces is overwhelming. I came across a picture the other day of me and Jason before our Charlie was born. Such a different look in our eyes than even the really happy days now.
As far as whether I would warn myself about what would be to come? I don’t know. I really think that even IF I were warned, it would in no way prepare me for the pain that would be felt when I was holding my baby while he took his last breaths or celebrating that first Christmas without him or realizing he should be starting school… there’s no way to properly warn someone of how painful life can be. I am glad I got to live so innocently for so long. I think that helps me in my quest to help others now. I still see the glass three-quarters full even though I know bad things happen.
So awesome hanging out with you this weekend in Vegas! Hope to do it again!!
Adrianne says:
This is like asking if you would tell your current self when you are going to die (if you knew of course). That’s always hard to answer, but I think most people would say no. If I had suffered a huge loss, I don’t think I would want my 16 year old self to know it. Why take away that innocence and hopefulness, you know?
Barnmaven says:
I would simply tell my younger self that life is going to be difficult and painful in ways she couldn’t yet imagine, but that it was also going to be filled with joy and love and all measure of beauty. I would tell her that no matter what she faced in the future, she would be strong enough to handle it. She might fall down, she might feel that she was going to break, but that no matter what happened, she would be OK and she would be loved.
LD says:
I think I’d tell my 16 year old me that even if none of her wonderous plans turned out the way she planned, that she’d be able to survive it.
Shannon Etnyre says:
Even in high school you were more mature than the rest of us & although I think your 16 year old self would be able to put a plan in place to attempt to deal with what was to come, I would still let her be. You are who you are right this very moment because of the experiences you had. We just need to make sure those we love, know we love them. That’s all that’s really important in life right? That’s the legacy we should be leaving.
Ms. Moon says:
No. Because in my case, I only expected doom and yet, what I have received, is mostly blessings. Yes, there has been great sadness and very hard times but mostly, the dreams that as a child I did not even have the hope to dream, have come true.
And I would have wanted to tell my sixteen-year old self that.
Elizabeth says:
I don’t think I would tell 16 year old me anything of the future. I don’t know though, I’m a little torn on this one.
Laura says:
I think I would tell my 16 year old self to enjoy spending time with my mother and listen to her and show her more respect. At that time I knew she had cancer but still had hope. I didn’t think I would want to know I would lose her when I was just 23 years old, 9 months before my wedding.
Katy says:
Barnmaven summed up well exactly what I was thinking. I wouldn’t get into specifics with my 16-year-old self, but I WOULD want her to know she wasn’t invincible, that life would hold some scrapes and some devastation…but also that she would GET THROUGH IT. That there really is life on the other side of grief and loss and sudden change. That she would have a network to help get her through.
LisaJ says:
I am seriously wrestling with this one, Heather.
I haven’t been through one one-hundred thousandth of the pain that you and Mike have suffered. I miscarried three children, and that was absolutely horrible for me. I had these losses and went on to have three wonderful children (not exactly in that order) and I am afraid if I start to question what was, I have to ask myself if they would be here at all if I hadn’t had the losses that I suffered. I would like to believe that I would have all of them, but since I never imagined having six babies, I don’t really think that is so. It is all very butterfly effect, and so when my mind begins to go there, and I have to imagine my life being different, I shut down. A lot.
But your loss is very different. I lost the idea, the whisper of a dream that had only just begun. It was not that way for you, and so I can’t really wrap my mind around whether, were I in your shoes, I would want to be prepared…to know. I don’t think so, though. I think that it is so difficult to enjoy the really good moments, the marrow of life moments, if the shadows are looming and we can see them. And when I look at pictures of your beautiful little girl, and the light in the eyes of you and Mike in every single picture you are in with her, I know this: there was incredible, unfettered, unmarred happiness. And love–so very much love. I am so happy that you had that happiness, even though I wish so much that it never, ever had to end. And I am aware that these are words that can’t change anything, really, but I mean them from the bottom of my heart.
Trisha Vargas says:
This one is a toughie. My 16 year old self was very different than most. I was already a mom to my now, 16 year old daughter Kaley. I would like to think that all the scars and heartache that I endured up until now have molded me and I don’ t think a warning of some of the doom to come would have changed anything for me.
Another interesting post that really makes you think.
(((HUGS))) from Florida
Gale @ Ten Dollar Thoughts says:
There is just no easy way to answer this question. They say that youth is wasted on the young, and that may be true. Nevertheless, I don’t think I could bring myself to ruin that happy idealism. If you were tell your sixteen-year-old self what happened in the future it would likely ruin so many happy days for you. Also, it might change the decisions you made. Without having Maddie 20-something-year-old Heather would never know how much you loved her, and might decide not to get pregnant in the first place. I don’t know you, Heather, but after reading your words for more than a year now I know that you’d never give up having Maddie just to spare yourself the pain of losing her.
I suppose if I were talking to 16-year-old Heather I would tell her this: Things are going to get really hard at some point. But you are strong. You will have a wonderful husband. You will help each other through it. You will have a huge community of supporters. And you will find joy again, even though the pain will never fully subside.
Rebecca says:
I would give myself a warning but not tell myself the whole story.
Amanda says:
No, I wouldn’t tell myself anything about my loss. The only thing advice I would give is to relax and enjoy life more; you never know when things are going to take a turn for the worst and you’ll be happy you were blissful while you could be.
Daniel says:
I never thought about that. I guess I would warn myself not to get angry when that beautiful girl Denise rejected me when I asked her to be my girlfriend.
Shanna says:
Without question, I would. It may sound gloomy, but I have never been a “take the bad with the good” kind of person, and if I could go back and steer myself in a different direction to avoid all of the pain, I would. Even if it meant missing out on some of the good, because what I didn’t know, good or bad, I wouldn’t miss.
Melinda says:
I have pondered this question so many times. In my role as a pediatric oncology nurse this topic or a version of it come up quite often. I have asked my mom the same thing more times than I can remember her answers as my brother would have been 49 last week. Here is the thing, I don’t think knowing would have allowed you to prepare any better. There is NO way to prepare for it. If your child dies suddenly is that better or worse than the child who has cancer and allows for time to prepare. In my experience, neither…the outcome is the same. Here is what I wonder, would you have been able to love your Maddie with such abandon had you known? Or would you have tried to protect your heart and in doing so put up a barrier you never intended and had no control over. I have asked parents this question too many times to count, including my own…would you do it all over again knowing the outcome? The resounding, without a seconds hesitation answer from every single one of them, YES!!! In the end, it seems to me, the crystal ball is not all that worthwhile because the love, that deep, boundless, joy to infinity and beyond love is worth every second of pain. Heather, I am sorry for the empty spot at your table and in your heart. But I am so grateful for the love you have and gave for your Maddie and the love she returned. I hope and pray that this love is the salve you need to heal your very broken heart!
Brandy says:
Wow, that’s a hard one. I honestly don’t know. There is a VERY large part of me that says “absolutely!” I wonder just how much more I would have appreciated my dad if I had known I would lose him when I was only 22-years-old. Would I have spent more time with him? Made him write more down about his life? Just called him on a daily basis to tell him how much I loved him? His death was very sudden and in that extremely hard to accept. I often wonder if there had been some warning and if I had had a chance to tell him all he meant to me, if I would have gone down the road of severe depression that I did. One of my greatest worries in the days following his death was that he didn’t know how much I cared about him, about how important he was in my life. So yeah, in that respect I think if given the chance I would have a hard time not telling my 16-year-old self that.
Now as for infertility and all that went along with that struggle, no I probably wouldn’t tell myself that one. It was a hard road to walk but it shaped who I am and not knowing what was ahead helped to build my faith. Seems a bit contradictory, I know, but it’s how I feel nonetheless.
DefendUSA says:
No, I wouldn’t tell me anything that would change the course of my life now. We all have regrets and experiences we wish we could change, but if we were able to, we wouldn’t be here, in the now. And in birth or death, we are destined either way. You’ll always have those woulda, shoulda, coulda moments. I try not to go there unless I am sure it will make me smile and be ever more grateful than I am. The logical me can tell you it will always hurt, maybe sometimes more than others. I hope for your sake that it ebbs more than flows.
Alison says:
Certain things I would have liked to know about – that I was going to have children, that I was going to be a surrogate, but other things I would not have wanted to know ahead of time – knowing I’d suffer through miscarriages, through the near loss of my father, the end of my relationship with my mother, etc.
As someone above said, not knowing our future’s is a blessing.
Kris says:
This is a tough one, but no I would not want to know at 16 that I would face years of infertility, a high risk pregnancy with triplets, a very long NICU stay with one of them and all the health problems and developmental probelms to follow. As an adult I needed to not know what the ending was going to be. I needed to become a stonger person and mother. I needed to grow and experience these things to become who I am today.
Glenda says:
I wouldn’t change the course of my life. I went through grief: lost my dad, my grandma, my one year old niece and 2 brothers and my mom. I’ve gone through ups and downs but all the grief and heartache has made me a stronger women today. I hold all the beautiful memories I’ve had with each one of them very special and they make me smile.
Casey says:
No. I wouldn’t tell me of the impending doom and heartbreak that is my life today because then I would have been paralyzed in fear and I never would have opened my heart. The pain is real and terrible but I wouldn’t have had the good times or the children who share my life.
So no…I wouldn’t tell myself of what was coming my way.
Christina says:
Yes, I would tell the 16-year-old me some things. Not any big giveaways, except for one. I would tell her that she was adopted (something I didn’t find out until I was 30) so that way she wouldn’t feel like there was something wrong with her because she didn’t connect with her own family.
I would tell her to be a little less careless about mistakes because they follow you for a while (i.e. a bad credit score). I would tell her to read more. I would tell her to enjoy her youth (which I still feel I’m in, but not in the same way). I would tell her she’s doing okay and that she is going to be happy in life. And that wouldn’t be a lie.
A better question, I think… imagine you’re older self (20 years older, let’s say) came back to give you advice right now. What do you think she would say? What would she tell you to enjoy? She’d probably say how young and beautiful you are… we’re all so stuck in the past, that question is hard for us. But it might open our eyes to the things we take for granted right now.
missy says:
Yes, I think I would. I just hope I would have been smart enough to listen.
Daisy says:
No…I’m a worrier, and I’d ruin the good moments by worrying about what was ahead. That is just me though.
Jess says:
I don’t know. Because I faced a lot of grief in my life as well. From my early 20s on. Do I want to know I will lose my grandma? No. I don’t think I would. I think I would prefer to just live the way I did, loving her, laughing, having a good time.
I think I would be sad to know I lost her to cancer and I ended up living at home at the age of 28. And that I almost died at the age of 26 due to a driver driving on a suspended license who hit me. I think I would prefer to let it play out. Because I would’ve changed how I did things, maybe not going to college to stay with my gram. So no, I wouldn’t.
Kirsty says:
I definitely wouldn’t tell my insecure, lonely 16-year-old self what was to come because I’m scared she’d have ended up killing herself. It’s not that my life is total sh*t (it’s not), but it’s certainly not been a bed of roses, either. And now I’m 41, my mother died over 7 years ago (and had dementia for 10 years before that), my eldest daughter died when I was nearly 6 months pregnant with her, my ex is now my ex (duh) and losing his mind (seriously, psychiatric illness, irrational behaviour…), I have no social life, no real life at all outside of working. But I have two beautiful little girls, an adorable cat, a decent job and a decent home, so I’m not really complaining (much). The future looks pretty gloomy (lonely – the key word to my life, apparently), but not without hope. I just don’t think I could have coped with the “it isn’t really going to get much better” part of my future when I was 16…
Tami says:
If we knew what the future held allot of things would be different. If you knew you were going to Lose Maddie would you of got pregant? Maybe not , then you would of never seen her beautiful smile and her big blue eyes. Life is so unfair that a child should never been taken from ones parents. If I knew I was going to lose a child I would totaly freak. Its hard enough losing a parent , grandparent.
I wish I could be one that could bring her back and take away your pain.
Im so sorry for your loss.:(
amanda says:
I really don’t think I would.
Love to you…
Nikki says:
I don’t think I would warn 16yo me. It’s one thing to live with something after it happens, but the dread and fear and emotions that would plague me before hand are not ones i would want to deal with. I probably wouldn’t live in the moment, and I’d miss on opportunities to just be. It makes me think of those websites where you can allegedly type in your birthdate and find your deathdate. Not that I believe in them, but the idea that something horrific like that was looming gives me the willies.
Regardless, I wish Madeline’s story ended differently. I wish she was still here, a beautiful, vivacious 3-year-old getting ready for her little sister’s first christmas. Hugs and love to you and Mike.
XOXO from GA,
Nikki
RP says:
I honestly don’t think there is any preparing for loss.
2 1/2 months ago, my husband passed away extremely suddenly- he was in the ER on Sunday night and I kissed him good-bye on Tuesday morning. He was the love of my life. I am 27 years old and I thought we had 50 more years together, at the very least.
I don’t think I could ever explain to that sixteen year old girl what it felt like to be so happy and in love. And I still can’t comprehend how much pain there is right now- there are no words for it.
All I can say is that I wouldn’t give up a single moment we had together. If I could have warned myself, if I could have known that our life together would end now, like this… I don’t know what it would have changed.
I would *always* choose to be his wife. I felt lucky every day. And when I look back, even feeling like I feel right now- I still do. We were so blessed to have what we had, for as long as we could have it.
That is what I would tell my sixteen year old self: Remember that whatever pain comes is there because of and as great as, the happiness that came before it.
Andrea says:
I think I would tell myself that tragedy is not just reserved for me, that it could and would happen to me. Because that was one of the hardest things about my miscarriage and then losing my mom…I never thought that those kinds of tragedies happened to a girl like me, in a family like mine, where up until that point, everything had been hunky-dory. It was naive to me to think this way, yes, and I think I could have handled it better if I had known not to be so sure.
Emily says:
I would tell my 16-year-old self that even though my parents don’t care if I fail out of high school, it’s still not a good idea. I would tell myself to do my homework, get the good grades I am capable of, and think about college. I would tell myself it doesn’t matter if you have money or not, you can still go to college if you work hard and get scholarships.
Now I’m 25 years old, and can only find jobs that pay barely above minimum wage. I make $8/hour and can’t afford Christmas presents for my loved ones or warm clothes for myself, and I have no idea where I’m going to get money for January’s rent. I wish I’d have known how important education was back then, and maybe now I wouldn’t be paying the consequences.
Ann. T. says:
No.
Antonia Aruffo says:
Good question. However, things in my life were in a different way. I pulled out my hair for 12 years, from 7th grade til about 4 years ago. So all throughout middle school and high school I pulled, and therefore was teased and tormented. Never in a million years did I know, or even ever think, I could or would stop. Every day I cried and prayed I would stop. One day, thanks to me taking control of every aspect of my life, I stopped. I wish I could have told the younger me that it DOES get better, that one day I WILL have control over it and stop pulling.
Tara. says:
I bet you wouldn’t want to know the loss you would face. So many things would have been different about your life.
I don’t know what I would have told myself. When I was 16, I was in a very bad, dark place in my life. When I was 16, I tried to take my life. So as cliche as it sounds, I’d probably tell myself to listen to my Mother because it really does get better. I would have told myself I was worth much more than how I saw myself then. It would be hard to look at my 16 year old self because that was an extremely hard place to be.
Amanda M. says:
My 16 year old self should be warned about two things: reign in the hormones, and don’t go to college to be a teacher ’cause right before you get tenure California is going to lay all of them off.
And buy more Netflix stock.
That’s about it. My main trial and tribulation is far is the cloud of unemployment that’s keeping me from even starting to have kids.
hdj says:
I think the message to 16 year old me would be to take nothing for granted and make the most of every moment. You can’t prevent the bad so the only real remedy is to make the most of all the good.
I can’t imagine what you have gone through. The worst things that have happened to me have all been self inflicted (for the most part). I don’t think this applies to you or your situation but I try to see the lesson or the good in any situation and take that forward hoping not to repeat my mistakes.
If you had known would you have changed course to avoid the loss and pain? And if yes, would that have been worth it to you even if it meant never knowing Maddie? Even though her time here was short, it’s so obvious that she brought you and your family so much joy and happiness. And you’ve done such an amazing job of keeping her memory alive that people who never would have known her have gotten a chance to know what a special girl she was.
Melissa says:
I know I wouldn’t. It totally reminds me of the Garth Brooks song “The Dance” – I might have missed the pain, but I’d hvee had to miss the dance..
Jenny says:
I think I would have told the younger me to not miss a moment, don’t take anything for granted, but I think (at least for me) telling my young self about impending doom would only make me enjoy less and worry more. So I’d give young me the advice that I give current me. Do the best you can, love the most, make the most of every little minute with your loved ones. Tell them how much you love, every day, because you just never know, and you aren’t in control like you want to be so relax and enjoy.
My perspective would obviously be different if I had lost my daughter at 17 months old. I’m so sorry that your prospective isn’t different too.
I don’t know if younger self would have listened. What 16 year old listens to a 34 year old anyway?
Hugs!
Emma says:
I read every day but somehow never seem to comment!! This touched a nerve with me though. I wouldn’t go back and tell myself what was likely to happen as I think that would take away all the hope that I felt back then. What I would tell myself is to make the most of every single moment with those you hold dear as you just never know when it will all disappear!!!
Julie says:
No, I would not. The 36 year old me does not want to know either, actually. For all of the difficulties I’ve endured, I could barely handle living in the moment- I don’t see how I could live life knowing what was to come.
raised a pessimist says:
By the time I was 16, a lot of my parents’ problems had already happened to all of us and a few more years of the worst of the fallout was still to come. My life, while not as tragic as Nina’s, had nevertheless taught me by that point to NOT expect things to go well. To pretty much assume that, at best, you wouldn’t lose the place you were living and have to start over again, again. In my mind, only on TV and in books did people have the sort of lives where they had standing activities from one week to the next and could make plans for weeks or even months from now, confident that the money and other arrangements could be made and would stand firm.
By the time I was 31, life had, in fact, improved and become fairly reliably good, if not easy. But if anyone had told me at 16 it was possible to have a life in which every day, week, month wasn’t a trial of financial issues, excuses and dashed expectations I wouldn’t have beleived you.
Skye says:
I read your post this morning and it made me more patient and loving toward my mom when I stopped by to see her today. I kept thinking how lucky I am to have her around, so thank you.
I haven’t experienced “doom” like you have, so I can’t answer the question well. There are a few things I would tell myself, though. I would tell myself to spend more time with my friends and less with the loser boyfriend I was about to start dating, and to listen to everyone when they told me to dump him. I think I would tell myself that my dad ends up in prison, and then maybe I could have helped him so that would end up differently. Oh… and I would definitely tell myself to start thinking about a career before the week of graduation… maybe I would have gotten my teaching license in undergrad, instead of having to work full time and pay to go to school part time now and have it take three times as long.
I’m sorry you have to wonder this. If I were in a similar position, I think I would only tell myself about a devastating future loss if I thought it would change the outcome. Otherwise, it would just be too painful to know what was coming. As others have said, I certainly don’t want to know how and when I’ll die. I would live the rest of my life in dread.
Emily says:
This is such a hard question … It’s had me thinking all day long.
I can’t imagine living each day, knowing when “the end” was approaching … Especially if that “end” was coming for someone I loved. So, although I’m not in you situation, I’d have to say that I’d want the 16-year-old me to look forward to the future. Hopefully, she’d appreciate the small moments and understand that life is fleeting, but still be hopeful for what was to come. …
amourningmom says:
Great question. I don’t think that the 16 year old me would believe in a million years that the older me would have 2 sons die. Nothing would have convinced me that such horrible, unbelievable losses would be in my future. So, no I would just let my 16 year old self be hopeful and optimistic.
I think if I did tell myself I would have gone into my 16 year old room and not come out. . .
Ashley Hast says:
I’ve gone back and forth saying to myself “Yes, I’d tell myself…” and “No, I wouldn’t….”
I’ve come to the conclusion that as much as I’d like to change/warn/help out on some things that happened later, it might put me in a different place than I am right now…which *could* be better…but then again, it *could* also be worse. I’d just tell myself, ‘Yo. One day? You’ll have *rawkin’* hair.”
Dawn @ What's Around the Next Bend? says:
No. I would definitely NOT tell my younger self!
I was full of hopes and dreams and just KNEW the fairy tale life/marriage was in store for me. Why would I want to ruin that for my younger self? Why would I want to put my younger self through stress that even though I wish had NEVER occurred, I wouldn’t change?
…I wouldn’t change it because of what I gained.
kari says:
Wow, that’s a really good question. I guess I’d have to say no, because you grow from all your experiences, good and bad. And, when you think about it, would you have done anything differently? Probably not. Hmmm…I’m gonna go give my hubby a big hug.
XOXO
Veronika says:
Would I tell 16 year old me what the future holds? I don’t think so. What I would tell that girl, is to stop wasting time. Stop caring what all these other people want and think. That every moment is precious and you can’t let time slip away on what you want to be some day. Be that person today.
Karen says:
Well I would be saying to the 16yr old you, “Most Likely To Succeed?, Yes you do.”
You may not have a high flying, big bucks powerful job but you have and are succeeding in ways you could never have imagined. You touch people and support people every day by sharing your life. You are raising funds and awareness for March of Dimes. You have a wonderful strong marriage (in this day and age a success in it’s self!). You are bringing up a beautiful baby in a well and healthy manner (how’s the cooking going btw?). And the worst one of all, you are succeeding in surviving trauma.
You may not feel sometimes that you have succeeded in a traditinal way but believe me you are succeeding in a more meaningful way.
anotherheatherfromcanada says:
No, I would not tell the 16 yr old me about what was to come, that I would end up almost losing my life at 18, or the upcoming deaths of my grandparents. At the age of 9 I lost my father, so at 16 I was pretty much all doom and gloom anyhow, I don’t think telling myself at that age that I would also endure 2 high risk pregnancies, a premature birth and the emotional trauma that came from leaving my baby at the hospital the day I was discharged would have been a good idea. I would not change it at all, because the path I went down brought my 2 babies to me.
Suzanne says:
No, I would never tell myself of the traumas ahead. But like others, I would tell myself that even when bad things happen in my future, I can handle it. I hope that would help me in the darkest hours. I would also tell me – Don’t feel sorry for yourself. Everyone has sad and scary things happen in their life. That’s what’s life is. So act strong even when you don’t feel like it and that will get you through.
Lisa in Elijahland says:
I wouldn’t go back and warn myself. My happiness at that time would’ve been tainted if I knew what was going to come. Why taint the years when you were naive and thought all your dreams would come true?
Anna says:
Nope, no way. The phrase “ignorance is bliss” definitely applies here. The grief is hard enough after the fact; there’s no need to anticipate it.
Vicky says:
I agree with Anna in comment #79. In your case if it were me I would tell my 16 year old self that no matter what curves life throws you, you will survive.
VDog says:
Ignorance is bliss, right? Sigh.
Elizabeth says:
I think about this question every day since my dads sudden death almost 4 years ago. Being his first biological child, and sickly at birth, we were really close. He really struggled when I hit my teen years and wanted to spend more time with my friends than with him -though we were almost always together.
If I told myself we would have more memories, more pictures, more time.
But then again, it would have never prepared me to lose him…and even if I would have done things differently I still would want more, and more, and more.
So I would probably tell myself, or maybe I wouldn’t. I would surely tell myself though to cherish every moment like it was your last and to love like there was no tomorrow…because in an instant it can change.
I would also tell myself that I am stronger in the future, kind of wise, and a little more certain about the world around.
Jenn says:
If I went back to my 16 yr old self, I would assure myself I would meet, fall in love and marry my soul mate. He would treat me with nothing but grace and gentleness but we would be blind sided by the loss of 5 babies over the course of 4 1/2 yrs when we decided it was time to start trying to build our family. Although there is nothing I could tell my young self to even remotely lessen the pain we went through (especially since all I have EVER wanted was to be a mommy), I would take solace in an event that happened one winter day in March. It was the 2nd time I hemorriaged with my 6th pregnancy. As the ambulance rushed me to the hospital, I held my husband’s hand and with tears in my eyes, I told him I wasn’t sure if I could go through this again and told him I wanted to preceed with our international adoption…I wanted us to go to China to find our daughter. Once we got to the hospital they took 101 tests. Even though I was only 12 1/2 weeks along, I BEGGED the doctor to try to listen for a heart beat and I promised NOT to freak out if we couldn’t hear one. I would go on to explain to my young self how the Dr. listened to my plead and carefully placed the doppler upon my tiny bump of a stomach. I would continue to tell “her” (me) how I held onto my husband’s hand so tight it hurt and I held my breath until…..suddenly I heard the most Sweetest and most Beautiful sound I have ever heard! My unborn baby’s heart beat. I would tell myself how we all cried…sobbed…even the doctor and how in that moment I not only rejoiced my new baby but I also mourned the babies who were no longer with us. I would reassure myself 6 months and 36 1/2 hours later, the greatest moment of my life occured as I heard my newborn son’s 1st cry and I got to hold my baby for the first time. I would continue to tell myself how amazing it is to be a mom and how all of my dreams came true when God granted me with a daughter and another son 2, then another 3 1/2 yrs later. Finally, I would secretly whisper to my young self how I still felt like there was a baby missing from our family and how I would privately grief the fact my body, now consumed by a painful neurological disease would never allow me to carry a 4th baby. I would remind myself then and now to count my blessings and be grateful for the 3 healthy children I did have and how since we are foster parents, another child could suddenly come into our life it was truly meant to be.
eliza says:
Oh my goodness this made me cry. Beautiful.
Karen says:
Even though my regrets are only small by comparison, leaving me unable to really feel the temptation of wondering ‘what if’ in terms of being able to change things, I still strongly believe that change comes with no guarantees. Though I might be able to stop one bad thing from happening, I can’t guarantee that the change in circumstances won’t be the catalyst of an even worse chain of events and so I have learnt, so far, to soldier on. If faced with the actual choice, however, and with a loss such as yours in my life? Who knows. Raw emotion doesn’t tend to be all that logical, nor does it have much time for philosophy.
Then again, looking back on my hair in high school, I might be tempted to go back and declare a ‘no perming’ rule.
eliza says:
Oh god I don’t know. I guess I’d warn but then you ruin those blissfully ignorant years. The truth is you’d never really know what it meant until it happened. “wracked with terrible sadness”. Your little phrases just slay me. But you lived up to most likely to succeed didn’t you? You survived, you excelled, you created this beautiful masterpiece of writing, you created an amazing family, you are embracing and coming into your talents, your beauty, your writing. You lived up to the superlative-and then some. And you’re just getting started.