When True Love Never Questions Your Soul

“And she’s going to learn that this life will hit you, hard, in the face, wait for you to get back up, just so it can kick you in the stomach but getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air.” — Sarah Kay’s Poem — If I Should Have a Daughter

My dearest Daughter,

I want you to know how much God blessed me with your wonderful existence. I had never been fertile over the years, and when I reached my thirties, I’d questioned myself about having children; the idea of growing old and alone had crept into my mind, yet I never dreamt of bringing a child into an unhappy world.

It was strange, because shortly after those thoughts, I conceived you.

Of course, there’s no mistake I was living with Daddy, but by then, we knew how miserably different we were from one another. Yet hearing your heartbeat made you the real deal you truly are, even though you had arrived as just a dot from the universe; our souls sealed a silent pact.

Fear and a deep sense of dread filled the pit of my gut; I’ve learnt since then, through a path of healing, that it was only because of my own abandonment and brokenness, which had left me with a fragile sense of self. Please know that my demeanour had nothing to do with your miraculous creation, through me, to this world.

So, forgive me for the doubts that stirred when I stared at those two blue lines, I assure you, later that day, I laughed and danced with my sister: me, pregnant! Something incredible was happening in my life, at long last.

My love deepens for you each day that passes; I am trying to detach from the heavy guilt about my wrongdoings, which have cast a shadow over my life, but driven by my own spiritual deficit.

I struggle to acknowledge anything that is deemed successful in my life — apart from you — I’ve never struggled to comprehend your wonderfulness. You are like a running tap, shining through, cherished, an unquestionable fact.

I’m so sad that trauma was born to you through me, but I’m grateful your first six and a half years were idyllic. A perfect home, a perfect school, and many privileges and opportunities. Adventures and trips abroad. Daddy decided to push further into his dreams of starting a new business, enticed by a rich friend to make it bigger — better — but too difficult to sustain.

We ripped apart, and our lives exploded, scattering us into smithereens. Out of nowhere, you now had two homes and a new school you hated. You refused to get up each morning, plunged into a deep, dark place. My heart truly breaks when I think of those times. I wish I could delete what happened, the way I can delete a text. Yet I’m unable, and it hurts my heart for you.

When you became a young teenager, you asked me if it was because of you that everything fell apart. My heart fell a million miles and agonisingly crashed to the floor. How selfish was I to make decisions that caused you to think this way! You developed trauma responses, and your world was tarnished in so many ways.

This makes me feel so fucking shit.

Gutted, did I do that?

You always tell me everything’s okay and that you understand Daddy and I are too opposite in character to live together. You always say you forgive me. You always tell me you love me so much.

And I love you to the moon and back — beyond infinity. I would die for you.

You saw so much. You saw trauma. You saw rupture. You saw me get arrested. You felt the energy of confusion, darkness, and suffering.

How could I possibly put you through that?

All I attest to is that I was broken, and yet they say there are never any excuses, and it’s true; mine feel pathetic. Yet now, I make sure I spend time unpacking my wounds and writing them out. I only wish to make everything right.

Now you are strong, a beautiful woman — my heart and soul, a human angel. You work hard and push through so much; I’m so proud of you.

I don’t have my parents in my life, and so you, no grandparents to love and adore. And I know it’s sad that we haven’t been passed down a strong inherited truth, but we will, together, I pray, build our truth.

You are a blessing; thank you for being YOU.

I LOVE YOU

Mummy

© Chantal Weiss 2026. All Rights Reserved

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© Chantal Weiss 2025. All Rights Reserved