When Daughters Surpass Us...........

I look back at my life as it was nine years ago. And I look at our lives now. Things are different. In good and in bad ways. My parenting style has changed, that's for sure. When my daughter was born, I had visions of the type of mother I'd be. I'd be stern, but fair. I'd be fun, but a disciplinarian as well. I'd be the type of mother that every child wants. I find that I'm not that all the time. I can remember every moment of her birth. I remember the drama surrounding it. I remember watching the news, because as I was in that hospital room birthing our first child, my husband was on his way into Iraq. We were both facing new and scary situations, but we were so far apart. I remember the moment of her birth and how they rushed her to be warmed because she just wasn't responding as fast as they liked and I remember thinking to myself "That's it?". That moment that is supposed to be joy and tears and hope well.... wasn't. I was tired, I was stressed, I was worried and in the midst of all of that, I missed that euphoria. I was so focused on the outside situations that I missed that moment with her. The days after her birth, I tried to recapture that moment and it was...well.... hard. I struggled with almost losing her. I struggled through being a first time mommy. I struggled through trying to hold myself together everyday waiting for that nefarious knock on the door. That moment when they tell you that you'd be alone in this forever. I struggled to hold a crumbling family together. I lost me in the middle of all of it. I missed the moments of just her and I. Where I sat with her and just looked in awe. Where I counted every single little toe and was amazed by the perfection of each one. And, then, there was the dark times. Those times where I felt that my daughter would be better off with anyone else, but me. That I was the wrong algebra in the equation. I was unable to reach out, because I felt that I had to be strong. I had to carry it all.

Those moments passed, of course. As they always do. We gradually worked into a rythem and we gradually got to know eachother away from the chaos. We gained those quiet moments. And I gained a center. My husband returned. Not the same as he was, of course. Older, wiser, harder. In a sense, broken. I failed to understand this. I still struggle. My daughter became my center. She became my world. But, with raising any child, I gained a huge responsibility. With my daughter, that responsibility is to raise a confident, strong, balanced woman. I want her to be the type of woman who doesn't take no for an answer when the world is against her. I want her to love herself and to see how awesome she is. I want her to see her how I see her. Perfect. She is amazing. I sometimes see bits and pieces of me in her or bits and pieces of her dad. But, I also see just her. And that's the pieces I love to see.