Letter To My Daughter (For When You Become a Mom)

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A letter to my daughters (for when you become a mom),Right now you’re both tucked warmly in your beds taking naps. The sound machines are gurgling and the bright afternoon soon is shining through dancing green leaves.

{This post was inspired by my friend’s letter to her daughter. You can see it here.}

I sit in a glider chair, bought to nurse you both, and stare at a blank computer screen. I think how much I want for each of you. Healthy lives of fulfillment where you give back, lean in and stand out.

A secret corner of my heart looks to your future, when you go to college, get married and have children. There is no way I can know for certain if I will be there and if I am, perhaps I will have forgotten these hard earned mommy lessons.

I want to share with both of you some important mommy advice.

What you are doing is an honor. It’s a mystery and a gift. From the first thought of having children, the flutter of life in your tummy- you are on an ancient highway, women before you have traveled.

You can’t do this alone. Becoming a mother is empowering and humbling. You feel the first movement of life, you nurture that life and protect. At the same time, it’s a shedding of yourself. First in the shedding of skinny jeans and embarrassment at monthly check ups and at last it’s shed in the hours you once called your own.

 

You will need help and community. When you are sick and can barely keep your head up to when they tell you to bear down and push and you realize you are a breath away from both life and death. It’s real, raw and something you will understand only on the day you deliver.

You need wise heads around you, comforting you, encouraging you and women after the fact to help you pick up the confused, overwhelmed and drowning in love pieces.

Reach out to them. Listen to them. When days feel dark and babies don’t sleep, roll, walk or talk the way you think they should– lean on the wise and soft shoulders of other mothers.

You are doing this right. If you stay up late worrying, caring, planning and hoping- then you’re doing this right. If you’re loving beyond what you thought possible and giving all that you never even knew you had. Then you’re on target.

Each baby is different. This will be the hardest. You will be tempted to compare when your baby drops, is born, rolls, crawls or walks. You will ask, why won’t he sleep, why isn’t he healthy and is something wrong?

And the thing to know deep down is this: Every child is different and unique. Your great grandmother quietly mothered all 9 of her children and 38 grandchildren and this is something she knew so well.

They don’t all nap the same, sleep the same, nurse the same or come into the world the same. Some learn more slowly or hardly at all. Some are sickly, needy, and trying. And they are just as important, perfect and lovable as the ones who sleep like rocks, never complain and fly through school.

There’s nothing “wrong” with your baby or you. Even if they have a disease, ailment or learning problem and never hit one milestone on time.

Take a deep breath in and a deep breath out and tell yourself, “That’s okay. That’s who they are. Every child is unique.”

Comparing only brings in dark corners of jealousy and resentment.

I have told you all through your little years what gifts you are. I pray that the gulf of teenage years and independence don’t dull that message in your heart and mind.

You are a gift and have been an honor to mother.

And I know you will be the best mom ever.

All my love from the years of your smallness,

Momma

Georgia Reed blogs at Oatmeal Smiles about seeking shortcuts in the kitchen and grace in motherhood. She has two little girls and a farmer husband who she loves like crazy. You can find her on Pinterest and Facebook