My sweet baby girl,
I can't accurately describe to you the amount of joy you've brought to my life. As your mama, it's my duty to try and guide and teach you, but there's so many things that I have learned myself. One thing I have learned is that "love" is not a simple feeling. I have never given myself over so completely to anyone. I love my mama and your Daddy deeply and irrevocably, but there is something about my love for you that goes beyond anything I have ever known. It's given me strength and also made me vulnerable in ways I never could have imagined. You are the perfect fulfillment of my deepest, most secret wish and also the seed of my most terrible fears. I haven't been the same since you were born. I read once before I became a mother a quote that said something along the lines of "children are your heart outside of your chest, walking around in the world." When I read it, I thought it was a sweet, quaint sentiment, but it wasn't until a mother that I understood what that could really mean. You see before I had you, I think I took life in general for granted. My heart had many obstacles to hide behind. I could neglect it entirely for long stretches of time, but since your first day, it popped straight to the surface and thumped its wild way right out of me and into you. I see my heart every time you smile at me or pucker your lips for a kiss. There's no denying its presence now or forgetting that it exists. And for me, it's also nearly impossible to forget how quickly it can break.
When you were a small baby, every little spluttering cough you made while eating or when your breathing slowed down so much when you slept that I had to put a hand on your chest to make sure I could feel it moving, every time that happened, I felt the sharpest momentary pain in my chest as if it was on the verge of completely shattering. I don't think I even breathed during those moments, but then relief would kick start my system again when you would swallow or I'd finally hear the tiny puffs of your exhalations. Each moment though was an eternity in itself; an eternity where the only way to know I was still alive was that I could still feel pain. I was totally paranoid. I never put you down for a nap and left the room. I would lay you down and sleep next to you or just lay beside you and watch and feel awed with gratitude that you had come into my life.
Since you came into the world, every child and mother has become a mirror where I see our faces. When something tragic happens to a child, even though I've never met them and in some cases, they're only fictional, I almost always break into tears. It's embarrassing really, but since discovering this giant, all-consuming, life-altering, breath-stealing love between a mama and her baby, I can't help but mourn when it is severed or betrayed by death, abuse or neglect. Not every mama feels the same way about their child as I do for you and I mourn for them too. I mourn that there is a child out there, many children who aren't kissed and tickled and hugged and comforted 1,000 a day. I mourn that there are mothers and fathers who deprive themselves of life's greatest joy and refuse or are unable to treasure their children. I mourn for the children who are deeply loved and who are taken by illness or violence. In my silly, neurotic way, I have grieved for you countless times. Every time a mother loses a child, it chips off a piece of my heart. I pray for the families affected and I pray for my own family as well. I can take anything in this life I think, but I plead with God to keep you safe and protected because losing you is the only thing I couldn't cope with.
I want so much for you. I want the world to see you and treat you as I do, but in truth, baby girl, the world won't always do that. I pray for you that you will have the strength of character to have faith in yourself, to treat others with compassion, to believe in your own ideals and thoughts, but be willing to listen to the wisdom of others. I hope you will have the humility to know your own limits and the courage to always challenge those limits. I don't care if you're a doctor or a donut maker, as long as you're happy and secure and well-adjusted. These are my dreams for you.
An adapted quote from Francis Bacon says "we give hostages to fortune when we love" and it's something I've become keenly aware of since your birth. Loving someone has never made me feel so terribly vulnerable to the pains of loss. The only way I prevent myself from becoming absolutely paralyzed with fear is to remind myself continuously how blessed I am to be the given the gift of you in the first place. I have never seen, heard or touched anything in this world that comes close to rivaling the beauty of your young life.
The only other fear that grips me as steadfastly as that of losing you is that of failing you. I am NOT a perfect mother. It actually terrifies me that you might think ever of me as an infallible, omniscient being. I hope to parent you not by training you to see me as some all-powerful authority figure, but by understanding that even though I'm flawed, I've still been around a lot longer than you and I hope you will listen to my guidance. I don't want to bully you into things just because I have the power as your parent to do so. In some ways, I'm sure you'll probably complain that I was too lenient, perhaps that I didn't give you enough rules and guidelines. I suppose that's part of my reason for writing these blogs. When you're old enough, I want to give these letters to you so that you can see I was human all along with my fair share of fears, faulty logic and what not. What I hope stays with you though is that whatever I have done or not done, my love for you has always been my motivation. Even in our most important relationships, in fact, ESPECIALLY in our most important relationships, a portion of mistakes are inevitable. Judge people though not by their individual actions, but what the motivating intentions were.
I wish you were here right now for a good squeeze and a giggle, but I'll see you soon so till then,
I remain
your ever loving,
Mama
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