By: Sarah Thompson
Updated: Jan. 11, 2021
Originally Published: Aug. 3, 2011
As I plunge into the cool water, it envelops me, taking my breath away. I swim a few strokes before turning back, and when I surface, my daughter, Lily, beams at me, her excitement palpable. “Mom, it’s amazing! It feels so good!” she exclaims, throwing her arms wide like she’s conquering the world. “I LOVE THIS!!!”
“It really is wonderful,” I respond, and she leaps into my arms for a full-body hug that drags us both underwater.
We play a game of follow the leader along the picturesque shoreline of Lake Tahoe, with her a few strokes ahead. I can’t help but admire the fearless girl she’s becoming. Every so often, she pauses to share her discoveries—a fish, a peculiar rock, or a log that resembles an eye. Her joy is infectious, and I can’t stop smiling.
“I love you,” she breathes as we take a moment to catch our breath. The sincerity in her eyes is evident, and it warms my heart. After what feels like an eternity of wanting her to embrace her adventurous spirit, I’m finally witnessing her let go of her fears and embrace life’s possibilities.
Yet, for years, I’ve battled the nagging fear that I’m failing her as a mother. The weight of my expectations feels heavy; I want her to be fearless and confident, but sometimes I worry that I’m doing everything wrong. I see her flinch at spiders, hesitate at heights, or shy away from new friends, and I wonder if it’s my fault. Am I setting a good example? Am I too demanding or not demanding enough? Does she feel my love?
It’s overwhelming, and I don’t want to let her down. She deserves the best version of me, but I don’t always know how to provide that.
Later, as we snuggle in her bed saying goodnight, she grips my face in her little hands and looks deeply into my eyes. Suddenly, her expression changes, tears welling up. “Mommy, do you think I’m weird?”
Before I can respond, she bursts into tears, and my heart shatters. My beautiful, imaginative daughter thinks she’s weird.
I want to scream, to tell her how incredible she is, and to protect her from anyone who has ever made her feel otherwise. But I recognize that this moment isn’t about me. She needs me to listen.
Taking a deep breath, I do just that. She pours out her heart, sharing her worries about not fitting in—her preference for karate over dancing, her fascination with dragons, and her dislike for traditional girl attire. “Nobody is ever going to be my best friend,” she cries. “I’m so weird.”
I let her sob, absorbing each wave of emotion. “Do you really think I’m weird?” she asks, her eyes searching mine.
“I love everything about you,” I reply. “Do you like yourself?”
She thinks for a moment, wiping her tears. “I think so.”
“What do you like about you?” I ask.
A flicker of realization crosses her face. “I’m funny, and I’m special because I don’t just do what everyone else does.”
“Exactly!” I encourage her. “What else?”
“I’m kind and I give great back massages,” she says with a small smile.
“All true!” I chuckle.
She continues, “I’m really good at round-house kicks; my sensei says so.”
“Yep, you are.”
“Do you think I’ll find someone who likes all that stuff?”
“Of course, but they don’t need to like everything you do. They just have to like you.”
Her brow furrows, and she asks, “Mom, do you really like me? Like, for real?”
“More than you can imagine. You’re my girl, and I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”
We end our conversation with hugs and kisses. Her brother, overhearing, rushes in to shower her with love, and soon, we’re all wrapped in a warm family moment.
Learning to love Lily and allowing her to discover her own strengths is the most challenging part of motherhood. My instincts scream to shield her from pain, but I realize I must let her face her challenges. I can’t solve everything; my role is to simply listen and love.
Listen. Love. Repeat.
Thank you for the lesson, my sweet girl.
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