A Love Letter to My Daughters

I always wanted to be a mom. Always.

When I was pregnant with my first child, I thought it was a boy. Wrong.

When I was pregnant again, it was so different than the first pregnancy, I was convinced it was a boy. Nope.

By the third, I just trusted the law of averages, statistics, and popular opinion. I’m not sure claiming the default made me right, but I definitely wasn’t surprised.

I was raised with two brothers. The only girl.

I’ve always been feminine. I like bows, glitter, and ballet. But I never been overtly “girly.” Pink was never my favorite color. I wasn’t boy-crazy. I didn’t talk on the phone incessantly. I don’t giggle. Flirting and flouncing were not specialties. I played with G.I. Joes and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles more than Barbie.

My Dad had us ALL out working in the yard… mowing, raking, and picking up sticks. This princess wasn’t protected from getting her hands dirty. The expectations for me weren’t any different than those of my brothers.

Then, I met and married a man who also had two brothers. No sisters.

When our first born was a girl, I thought, “We don’t know what to do with a girl.” Then we had two girls and started calculating dance classes, prom dresses, and wedding costs. By the time we found out we were having our third daughter, their dad declared, “Olly Olly Oxen Free!”

We are a split family now and I often wonder what it’s like at his house every other week because, in mine, it’s Little Women meets Ramona and Beezus with a side of Legally Blonde served up as a musical. A friend of mine even refers to our home as the sorority house, without the down feather pillow fights and the keggers of course.

2022 is a year full of milestone birthdays for me and my girls. I turn 45 (probably less ahead of me than behind, which is humbling). Abigail turns 16 (clear the roads). Karly turns 13 (another teenager). And Layken turns 10 (double digits). My girls are growing up.

While we hoped COVID would be a thing of the past by now, we manage to be quarantining with the first positive case among our household… on Super Bowl and Valentine’s weekend.

We’re thrilled, as you might imagine.

I don’t care so much for the actual football game, but this year’s half-time show is channeling my youth. I’m not sure I can handle the eye-rolling and lack of knowing such awesomeness that will come from children. I could use another 90s teenager to get nostalgic with… not to mention, I’ll never make wings as good as we’ll all be craving.

As for Valentine’s, well, it’s some pretty stupid commercial hogwash in my opinion; but it is a holiday…. and I do love holidays! Any holiday… all holidays! Mostly because I believe there is always something to celebrate (I just don’t think celebrating love should be relegated to only one day per year).

I haven’t always gotten it right. Romantic love, that is. But I have loved freely, willingly, happily. I’ve always considered the risk of loving to be worth any possible heartbreak. Walls have gone up over the years. They do for so many of us. But then there is someone who I meet and trust just enough to start lowering them down again.

Every connection and relationship, no matter its length… or potency… or ending, has left a mark upon my heart. Some required bandages, others required stitches … but mended and healed they all are. I’ve grown emotionally. I’ve become a better person.

Was it easy? No. But, it has always been worth it.

This Valentines, as I am cooped up and housebound with my three beautiful daughters, it seemed fitting that I pen a love letter of wisdom to them…lessons I’ve learned along the way… things I wish someone had told me.

My daughters are smart, independent, and fierce. Each unique and special in their own way. I trust them, and I want them to trust themselves. Experience is a great teacher, but sometimes a cruel one. If I could shield them from heartache and hurt, I would, but each of us has our own journey. The best I can do is share what I’ve learned and remind them constantly that their momma’s love is unconditional.

14 Lessons I’ve Learned about Love:

1) You are enough, just as you are. Period. Not up for debate with anyone.

2) Love with your whole heart. Yes, you might get hurt… but is better than not loving at all.

3) You are worthy of love in return. Don’t ever let another person determine your worth.

4) Pay attention. Trust what people DO (how they act) more than what they SAY (or promise).

5) Your first responsibility is to yourself.

6) Do no harm but take no shit.

7) You are (will be) okay, even if others are not okay with you. You are not responsible for others’ emotions and reactions, just your own. Manage those.

8) “No” is a complete sentence. No further explanation is required. Say it again, louder if necessary.

9) Find comfort in being alone. Know that alone and lonely are different. Don’t settle for unhappy together just to avoid being alone. Understand that you can be lonely even if surrounded by others.

10) Never sacrifice your own happiness believing that someone else is responsible for providing it to you.

11) Loyalty, integrity, and honesty matter. To yourself and to others. To Thine Own Self Be True.

12) Don’t wait for “as soon as,” “if only,” or “one day.”

13) Listen carefully for your “should,” “ought,” and “must” statements… then question them.

14) When you find the person who always makes you laugh, who makes your heart beat faster just by entering the room, who loves you despite (not because), and who willingly gives you the best hug exactly when you need one… hold on to them tightly. Fight for them. Be their champion and their best friend. And never stop dating them. Because that kind of love is worth it, and so are you!