Love Letters to Motherhood

Before I knew myself as a mother, I knew myself as a daughter, a wife, and a sister. I have been many things, and I will be many more. To be all of these things at once is more precious than I could have ever imagined.

The first time my daughter smiled at me, my world stood still. I wondered then, now, and forever, if I could save her from everything. From me, and my humanness. From herself, and her own humanness. It kills me that I can’t.

In every woman, I see my daughter grown up, and in every girl, I see my mother as a child. I wonder constantly if my mother always felt she was a mother; if her mom ever stopped seeing her as her little girl; if my mom sees me as a mother or a daughter. I wonder how one body can cover the vastness of being both a mother and a daughter.

In every mother, I see myself. I see myself in moments of impatience, and moments of compassion- in worry and pride. I worry I am all of the bad things and none of the good. I hope that my daughter will be better than I am, in everything. And yet, I hope she never feels that she is outgrowing me.

I remember arguing with my mom about whether she or I loved the other more. She told me I would understand when I have kids. I will never concede that she loves me more, but when I think of the way I love my daughter, I understand her argument.

I find myself thinking, “this is how my mom felt,” when my daughter is asleep on my chest (like I slept on my mom) and a million other moments.

To my daughter, thank you for letting me relive my mother’s love for me as a child.

To my mother, thank you for teaching me how to love my baby.

To motherhood, thank you for showing me this love.

To the Creator, thank You for the ability to love at all.

To my readers, thank you for reading my ramblings. This post is a bit different than usual and wont be my regular style I just wanted to share some reflections.

Stay wild!