A Vow to My Daughter
Hi, love. It’s me. Mom. I often wonder if you know where you are or if you can sense how grateful I am to have you. I also wonder if you are comfortable and warm or aware of my fears. I recently realized how truly intimate this experience we are sharing is. Togetherness equals oneness here, in its purest form. My body is like a cacoon, keeping you safe, allowing you the time and resources to grow your little feet and hands. My body – my home – your first home. What a beautiful thought. Yet, whenever I grasp divinity in motherhood, fear waltzes in, planting the seeds for trees of doubt and distrust.
I wonder if you instinctively trust this process, especially the painful yet most meaningful separation that awaits us soon. I panic over how the birth will go, wondering whether my body knows how to do that naturally. If I surrendered to this process, would all truly go well? My mom’s experience of birthing me is the alarm awakening this anxiety within. While I was cared for at home, the very first few weeks of my life, she was fighting for hers in the hospital. The pain of distance and all the worry of those around me penetrated my young, soft tissues, creating a deep sense of longing for safety I only knew, until then, as mother. Can you and I both trust that our experience will be different? Can we trust everything will be exactly as it should be? The only thing that calms this spiral of dread is when I take my shoes off and let my feet touch the ground. In the garden, amidst the birdsong, with grass tingling my soles, I can finally truly breathe. I am here. With you. For you. And, for myself.
Noticing your growth within me awakened something even more profound: questioning how I relate to this body of mine. Isn’t it interesting that your sheer presence within has made me see my body in an entirely new light? It’s a space of expansion, nourishment, and safety. An oasis of love, if you will. It is no longer something to criticize, fear or shame. It is life itself. Growing you, within me – of me! Feeling this as I stood amidst nature fueled an urge to go back inside, remove all my clothing, and stare at my naked self. In my thirty years on this Earth, I have never observed this body with such gratitude. “THANK YOU for how you feel, move, and support me,” I said out loud. This body is me. Yet, basking in this moment of self-love ended quickly, as I noticed a bulk of dense emotions lurking in the shadows. Shame. Guilt. Self-loathing. Memories of how I used to relate to my body flooded me. All the ways in which I failed to love and support it with needed nutrients, rest, and sleep came at me like the fiercest winds, cutting deep. I saw all my lack of understanding of its workings and all it does for me parallel to the arrogant, ungrateful audacity I had to demand it be different, better, more beautiful. The hatred of my crooked teeth, the shame over my hairy armpits, the pain of non-acceptance wreaked havoc within. I sat down at the edge of my bed, sobbing. I felt undeserving. Ashamed.
In the depths of my wounds, in moments of utter despair, the sacredness of this unlayering process emerged. Somehow, unbeknownst to me, the deeper I felt, the more I was reminded of my courage, compassion, and strength. Unconditional love appeared, showing me that the only path forward was through radical acceptance of all there is. Those crooked teeth – me. Hairy armpits – me. Imperfections of all kinds – me. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I whispered, holding my right hand across my heart. All my mistakes – me. My shame – me. My guilt – me. “Welcome,” I uttered in tears, knowing I had just touched my humanity for the very first time.
My love, I lay bare to offer an admission of my complete imperfection. This letter is a testimony to the messiness and glory of what being human is all about. To show you my shame and fears is to commit to loving you unwaveringly and unconditionally forever, as I have just learned to love myself. Now, I can be mother and hold you in ways we cannot even imagine now. Please see this as my vow to be with you when waves of shame and burdens of mistakes wash over the shores of your soul. Amid self-doubt and fear, when you sense you might lose yourself, rest assured that you always have me.
Welcome, love. Whenever you are ready. Mom is here.
