Letter to My Daughter: Brave

Dear Baby Girl,

You’re now 8 months old. You do so many things now—use the baby signs for “more,” say words like “Daddy” and “dog,” scoot your way around the kitchen, and, my personal favorite, eat Cheerios.

Everybody can see the transformation in you. But the transformation in me has been less obvious to outsiders. It’s mainly just something that I feel and know within myself.

Photo on 10-31-17 at 6.17 PM #3

Courage has never been one of my foremost characteristics; I’ve tended towards anxiety and over-caution. I have also been avoidant, as I hate conflict, especially with people whom I perceive as being more powerful than I.

I may be a nervous wreck sometimes where you’re concerned (by the way—I need you to stop trying to crawl into the dishwasher), but on the whole, I approach my interactions with people differently because of you. When I think back to people who, quite frankly, used to terrify me, the idea of them doesn’t intimidate me any more. Honestly, I’d like to see them try to get in my way when you’re with me.

While you’re in my arms, I feel like Superwoman.

It started when I was in labor with you. While your daddy and I were at the birth center getting ready to meet you, I was scared. I kept telling everyone who would listen that I couldn’t give birth to you, that I was afraid that it would hurt. (Ha.) But then the midwife told me that I could push, and suddenly I wasn’t afraid anymore. I knew that I had the power to bring you into the world, and I was determined to give you life right then and there. So I did.

Knowing that you are with me makes me so much braver than I’ve ever been on my own. I can make harder decisions, have more honest conversations, and be brutally aware of who I really am. Thank you for helping me be brave.


Your Mama