To My Daughter
Where do I start? No one holds a mirror up to you as an adult quite like your child. As I have mentioned previously, if anyone is going to call bulls**t on the paradox between what you say and what you do, it will be your child. Some women say, “I’ve always wanted a child.” Honestly, I don’t ever remember consciously saying that but it was something I knew would innately happen. When I found out I was pregnant I remember fervently praying that you were not a boy. I also recall holding my breath when your dad and I were asked by the ultrasound tech “do want to know what you’re having?” Part of me didn’t want to know because I didn’t want to be disappointed if you weren’t a girl.
When I welcomed you into this world, it was one of the happiest days of my life (tied closely with the day I got married and the day I got my very first bike). Pregnancy and childbirth are perhaps two of the greatest miracles. How else would you explain something growing inside you for 9 months then emerging into the world with 10 fingers and 10 toes and the ability to scream their lungs out. There were so many emotions going on in me that day: joy, fear, love (to name a few). JOY for the life I had just brought into the world and for the family we were going to be. JOY that my husband and I had created this life and added to our family. I had never known the capacity for LOVE until I looked into your eyes. You were my heart personified. It’s difficult to explain the kind of love a mother has for her child. The kind of love that makes you vulnerable, more so than you could ever imagine. My literal heart was staring back at me and I was now responsible for a life. Many people take that lightly and do not appreciate the gravity of becoming a parent, but in that moment, I did. I experienced a deeper love for your father that we were in this together and every decision made would be made together. My love for you was and still is indescribable. FEAR. As deep and vast as my love for you was (and still is), fear was very prevalent that day. Fear that I would drop you; fear that I would not feed you enough; fear that I wouldn’t be a good enough mother (although I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant). Most of the fears were irrational but fears nonetheless. And now 11 years later, I still have fears. I fear this world will change your pure precious heart one day. There is so much I want to teach you and show you. I want to apologize for the times when I was physically present but not mentally or emotionally. I want to apologize for the times when I could barely tend to my own emotional needs and was thus unable to tend to yours.
When we lost your dad, I tried very hard to be ok for you. It was difficult putting one foot in front of the other most days. I tried to be there for you as best I could but to be honest, I feel like I fell short. There were times when I gave you whatever you wanted because I just couldn’t show up for you emotionally; I couldn’t give you what I didn’t have. I ‘fed’ you with tangible things because I couldn’t give you what you needed…me. The days were long but the years flew by and before I knew it, you were taller and the baby fat in your face was replaced by a thinner, leaner looking you. I see determination and tenacity in your eyes. You’ve always been stubborn and fiercely independent. You thought you got those traits from your dad; but you got it just as much from me. I pray that you never loose that. Never loose your humility and your kindness. I have watched you grow and I am amazed at your level of maturity. I didn’t know how to be a mother (and still don’t); this journey we walk together. Both of us trying to figure out who we are: you trying to find your place in this world with a kind heart and intolerance of injustice; me as a single mother trying to find her way out of grief and back to herself.
I see passion in your eyes for so many things. Keep that. You are such a compassionate, beautiful soul. At 11, you have such firm boundaries and standards (I know 20 year olds who are not as convicted as you). My hope is to cultivate that. I never want to diminish your flame and please don’t allow anyone else to diminish it. I know the sky is the limit for you and I cannot wait to see what is to come for you. I never imagined loving someone so much. I hope to teach you to remain true to yourself and not be swayed by societal norms and popular opinions. You’ve always been a problem solver from the time you could walk. I would just look at you and see the wheels turning and wonder “how did she figure that out?” I see a strength in you that most kids don’t have. You have a certain awareness about you; a complete lack of obliviousness. You’ve had to learn to be strong from the loss of your father and the loss of you great-grandmother before you reached the age of 9.
I think every mother wants to save her child from hurt and disappointment; I am no different. If I could somehow deflect every potentially bad thing in life that could happen to you I would: the broken hearts, the loss of loved ones, the people in this world who will disappoint you…
God entrusted me with you. I’ve known that since you were born and it has only become more apparent as the days have turned into years. He also entrusted you with me; you’ve shown me how to be strong, how not to take crap and how to stand up for what is right. I’ve told you countless times “we are not friends” but lets be honest, we know that we are. We are all we have (and have had) from sun up until sun down…so it’s kind of hard to not be friends. There’s no manual on how to be a good parent (I’m not sure I would read it if there was because every parent/child relationship is different). I started with the basics: you had a roof; you weren’t hungry and you had a place to lay your head. The rest has been on the job training.
I hope I’ve taught you to trust yourself and to love yourself. You’ve often asked me if I’m proud of you. I could never NOT be proud of you but it is not about making anyone else proud; are you proud of yourself? Whether you know it or not, you saved me. Because of you, I HAD to become ok. Some days I didn’t know how to be ok but I knew were watching me and you were counting on me. You are still watching me. Some days I didn’t have the capacity to grieve AND be a parent; but I loved you and I held you as I choked back tears…because you were watching. I look at you as a confident young lady and I am somewhat envious, wishing I could have been half as sure of myself as a ‘tween as you are. As smart as you are, as driven as you are. I see great things for you my love. I’m proud of you EVERYDAY; be proud of yourself and remember that you can be whoever or whatever you choose. Never let anyone tell you who you are or what you can be.
Go forth and change this world for the better. I love being your mother and I cannot wait to see where life takes you. Hugs and kisses.
