Letters to our Daughters

Dear Beans,

Being your mom has not always been easy. As a baby you cried, and cried, and cried.  It wasn’t the normal “baby cry”, it was something different. You would cry and my heart would almost stop for a split second and then I would feel your pain.  It was like the pain from your cries would vibrate through my body and resonate in my bones.  I had never felt that pain before I heard you cry.

You were my inconsolable baby.  No amount of rocking, or snuggling (which you liked even less than rocking), or singing (which I did every night at 8pm when you would have your worst fit) could soothe you or make you stop crying.  There were nights where your dad and I would just have to lay you in your bassinet and leave the room because it was too hard to hear you cry.  I felt so insecure as your mom. Did you know how much I loved you? Why weren’t you happy?

But I get it now. Somewhere around the time you turned three, I started to see glimpses into your future and I recognized myself in you.  Your dad says you beat to your own drum. But really you don’t. We share the drum.  You get frustrated over smallest things and instead of letting it go, you panic and scream and cry.  It drives me absolutely crazy! But not for the reason you think.  It drives me crazy because at 32, I haven’t really learned how to, as your dad would say; “stay calm and assess the situation.” It’s indescribably hard to watch you struggle with the same exact things I struggle with.

But we will always have a unique bond because of this. Even though you don’t look just like me (you look more like your dad than you do me), you are JUST like me.  Your struggles–are my struggles. Your insecurities–are my insecurities. Your pain–is my pain. Your laugh–is my laugh (cackle and all). Your sassy nature–is my sassy nature. But, your sweetness, in spite of all your frustration, is a really beautiful thing to see.

Love,

Mom

I took this picture of her when she was almost 4–she was wearing her Belle dress (Beauty and the Beast) and her hair was a mess of tangles all wadded up in a ponytail. She was sitting on top of the kitchen table waiting for lunch. It was (and still is) the most perfect picture I have taken of her because it so completely captured who she is.

 Thank you for reading and please help us continue our blog circle by clicking here and reading Jessica’s letter.