I always dreaded having a daughter. I always thought I’d screw her up. LIKE HARDCORE SCREW HER UP!
I’m a mess.
A recovering mess.
I knew that I was pregnant with a girl the whole time. Call it mama instinct, I just knew.
It’s a fascinating journey to think about the notion that you’re raising someone. The good, the bad, the ugly, the amazing…you’re implanting all of that in them from the beginning. It’s a beautiful process. I have also found it overwhelming. She’s unwound a lot of my emotional hang-ups for me, because I don’t want her to deal with them. They’re not hers to bare, they’re mine..solely.
I don’t know what I’d hope for her entirely. I would love for her to be respectful, confident, and a contributor. In whatever way that manifests, I don’t really care. I don’t care what she does for a career, but I’d like for her to apply herself. I’d want her to be fulfilled with her days and I’d want her ‘to suck the marrow out of life’…and ALSO know how to relax and soak it all in. I’d want her to be aware of her world around her, and also how that world impacts her. I’d want her to find her wings and fly…soar.
But if I were to sum it up in once word..I’d choose Brazen
bold and without shame (v) // endure an embarrassing or difficult situation by behaving with apparent confidence and lack of shame (adj)
Not bull-headed. Not ruthless. Not stuck-up. Not arrogant. Not meek. Not cowardly.
I have never put expectations on our relationship. I just hope I give her what she needs to be her own. Her own brazen self.