I realized that I am proud to be a mom to my daughter. When I meet someone I haven't seen since before I got pregnant, all I want to do is show them that I have a baby. I have a cute little girl with two bottom front teeth, thick black hair, and a kind heart.
When you have a child, it opens a portal to your past and reveals how you felt about your upbringing. Memories become somewhat clear and your tears or joys come a little closer. Unfortunately, I have too many tears.
I worry a lot about what I am giving to her emotionally and mentally whether my childhood has any hold over her own.
I thought that I was at ease with how I grew up alone, in front of the TV, talking to myself locked in my room, creating stories in front of my mirror, and banning any old friends and any friend that may want to have a potential friendship. I felt unimportant, in the way.
I thought that understanding my circumstances was the key to moving away from any sadness and buried disappointments and that my parents dying early in my life gave me a freedom most teens wouldn't dare ponder.
Dare I say that I was wrong, and break any delusions floating my boat? I have been oblivious to my unprocessed grief and it has just decided to sit on my heart and mind.
Myself. By myself. For myself. Against anyone else. I am not just an island, I am a distant galaxy - beautiful, mysterious, and shameless.
And I'm still faking the shameless, but I am the spirit and my dream is to be free.
How do I give that to my daughter?
Better yet, how do I get my daughter to be a free spirit with shameless expression?
How do I publish and advertise without cringing at my own words and not typing out AMATEUR on the title?
We measured our 8-month-old on the wall today and marked it, she seems too tall for her age. And then I watch her sleep, and she just feels small, like a crawling, learning how to stand, beating heart that only her father and I can hear and empathize with. Only we can unconditionally love her. And with that, I feel sorrow and special.
I feel double the sorrow and only singularly special. Double to sorrow because I want my daughter to have more people who would drop anything at the sign of her suffering to help her to whichever extent she needs.
Double to sorrow because I feel let down by my late parents, and I don't know how I am not going to let down my child.
I feel singularly special because she - outside of her father - seems to find me interesting, funny, great company and comfort, and loves me deeply and unconditionally.
My parents loved me, I believe that. They didn't show it enough to make me feel secure in myself.
They didn't show up, they didn't show interest. They were engulfed in their misery.
And with that, I feel double their misery and only one-third special.
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