Letter to my Daughter

Dear Isabel,

As I sit here, feet curled beneath my aging body with aching knees and twinging back, I find deep comfort and solace in thoughts of you, my daughter.

As I reach midlife, I find the days unraveling at a quickened pace, with few pauses for breath and breaks. It is an odd feeling to think you likely have lived through half your moments on this earth; that if you live a few dozen summers more, you will be one of the lucky ones. Yet I know that if I were to only see one more summer, I would die as one of the luckiest of all. I have been gifted the experience of being your mother, and through that joyful circumstance I have found all the meaning and gratitude in the world.

You came into my life as a delightful surprise and have continued to live that way for these past 16 years. Despite the undeniable reality that you are now more young woman than child, my eyes live in a space where I see a tiny baby in your face, holding the charm and wonder of those early days and weeks. The moment I became your mother something changed within the well of my deepest heart; you needed me, and that seed grew within my self a warrior, a wild and voracious woman who never before had occasion to burst through. Prior to your light shining into my world, I saw through dark colored glasses which tinged my every step with a sense that I was lacking and misplaced in this world. I held closely a chasm of self doubt and shame and had abandoned the essence of myself in a spiral of distraction. Your sweet face, your smiles, your gurgling delight in all the newest moments of your life brought me back into connection with pieces of the little girl I used to be, the little girl who was let down and pushed aside and taught all the wrong things about herself and her place in this world.

Through the honor of being your mother, I have had the precious opportunity to mother that little girl as well. Each time you cried, as I held and rocked and soothed you, I also held and rocked and soothed that little girl. In every moment where you looked up at me with your deep hazel eyes and laughed so pure and deep in your belly, I laughed along with you, and pieces of that little girl healed and laughed joyfully with us. As I sat late into the night with you, holding you in my arms and watching your eyelashes flutter in the soft sleep of true peace only babies seem to know, I found a stillness within my self. The excitement with which you greet me has taught me that I am someone worthy of that excitement; the way you seek me out for advice and help in your times of conflict has taught me that I am someone worthy of sharing her wisdom; the way you simply seek a hug and gentle words when you are full of sorrow has taught me that I am someone worthy of giving comfort.

When I was pregnant with you, people would so often respond with a common yet strange lament upon finding out I was having a girl. “Well,” they’d say, “Enjoy her as a sweet little girl while you can. Once those teenage years hit, she’ll be nothing but an emotional handful.”

I’d politely smile, inwardly thinking what an odd belief that is to have. Now, 16 years later, we are delved deep into those teenage wilds and you have done nothing but prove that sentiment wrong. Sure, there have been emotional times. You’re a human! But each of those moments of tears or shortness or angst have been moments for which I am eternally grateful. Your most difficult moments have taught me how to tap in to my own inner space of understanding and calm. Each time you have been caught up in a high school drama or relationship turmoil, I have had the opportunity to remember myself at that age; the never ending cycle of hormones and dating and break ups, the late night phone calls and the love and hate and fights and making up which in the moment are the most important things in the world. Being your mother and being your support in those times has given me such a beautiful gift of being the mother I needed (and did not have) in those times. You have gifted me a newfound understanding and acceptance for my own behavior in those rough years.

Those folks telling me I’d miss you being a sweet little girl were right about one thing. You’re not a sweet little girl anymore. You are a strong, capable, empathetic, introspective young woman with passionate opinions and high expectations. Your commitment to your passions and unyielding need to find a voice and space for justice and truth in a chaotic world drenches my heart in the belief that there will continue to be bright lights in all the times of darkness. I am so thoroughly proud of all that you are, and, somewhat ironically as this is a written letter, there are not adequate words to truly share the depths of my gratitude for the experience of being your mother.

So I continue to sit here and ponder all these things, and I see before me not only the fleeting past, but silhouettes of joy we will share in the future. A future which hopefully will stretch into those dozens of scorching summers and crisp autumns and chilled winters and shining springs, not promised but so deeply hoped for. And as those long days come to pass, I will forever be grateful to be your mom, watching you walk into the future you build, hushed in sacred observation of your lovely life in this world.

Love, Mom