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  • Writer's pictureeaspenner


Updated: Jul 27, 2020

Oh precious mama, what a limitless gift you hold in front of you. The most beautiful kind. Not made of a mold. Or a cookie-cutter. Or impression. No sweet mama, she was made from only the greatest kindness of your ever-giving heart. Only the shiniest twinkles of your soulful eyes. Only the deepest drive of your endless ambition.

To stop you completely in your tracks. And open your eyes to a love you never knew existed.

A gift…

Whose fingerprints that once stained your coffee table and walls, will one day soon make their fierce impact on the world.

Whose hair you once battled to get into tiny, sprightful pig-tails will all-too-soon be willingly twisted into an intricate up-do for her senior prom…and her wedding…as the spotlight of someone else’s eyes.

Whose tiny piggies you used to smother with kisses will someday find themselves dancing gracefully across a gymnasium stage, crossing the finish line of a running track or breaking records scoring soccer goals. In the watchful of an awe-inspired audience. Instead of in the quiet view from a rocking chair and a tiny alarm-radio within her snug-and-cozy nursery walls.

A gift who only ever wants to please. Whose eyes give away her every thought. Worry. Misstep. And who sometimes who needs a boost, from the greatest role model of all (yes, you, beautiful mother), to step out of her comfort zone. Because she is too afraid to fail. In our big, bad, judgy world.

A gift who will be sized-up from too young of an age. Who will jump through hoops to fit in. Who will face peer pressure, eating disorders, jealousy, competition, and cyber-bullying before she even enters high school.

Who will experience heartache, heartbreak and feelings of failure, that only a mother can understand.

Who will test her boundaries like fire-and-ice. Who will push you, just like you pushed, at her age. But who will melt in your arms at the first hint of despair.

Who will face more battles in her existence than you could ever imagine, but who will work overtime to hide them from all around her, except you, beautiful mama, who knows her soul inside-out. For you-and-only you will be the one receiving that “I’ve-been-up-all-night-wallowing-in-my-sorrows-and-need-only-my-mom” phone call, at the predawn hours of a new day.

You, amazing nurturer, have been given one of the most important and meaningful jobs in the e.n.t.i.r.e. world. Directing this gorgeous being’s incredible destiny. Helping her write her story as she goes. For there is no playbook written for a prize like her. And that is one crazy mess of exciting and intimidatingly scary, all wrapped up in one. But you’ve got this. Because you were the chosen one.

She chose y.o.u.

To nurse her through her first weeks and months. To sit on your hip, when no one else in-the-world will do. To hold her hand as she fumbled through her first steps. To cheer her on as she danced away to Disney princess songs. And then to find just the perfect seat, front-and-center, as she makes her first real-life dance-recital debut.

To drop her off for her first sleepover. And to come pick her up prematurely, just hours later, as she embarrassingly melts into tears on the car-ride home. To chaperone her first junior high dance. Because she still thinks you are “just cool enough”. To go head-to-head as you set boundaries. And then to later apologize, as she realizes why. To hold her hair back when she is too sick to do it herself.

To shuttle her to her from sporting event–to sporting practice–and back home once again. To shop for the perfect prom dress, because she needs “Mom’s” approval. To pick her up when she feels uncomfortable in a peer-pressure situation. Knowing that when you said, “anytime day-or-night”, you really meant it.

To pack up the mini-van and grasp her soft hand tightly within yours, as you travel hours away to leave her alone. On a college campus. Too far, in your mind, away from “home”. To answer the phone past bedtime, in an attempt to comfort her aching heart. Hours away from her physical presence.

To be there to give your approval as she brings home “the one”, after picking up the pieces from relationships past. To take her wedding dress shopping. As she can’t decide between yours and her own. Yet, she knows your support will not waiver. To sit in the front pew of a grand church, beach destination or local courtroom, as she exchanges vows with the up-and-coming most important figure in her life . Smiling with your approving heart, so she knows deep within hers, that this new adventure will still include you.

She chose you, sweet mama. And you chose her. A match made deep within your souls. Unmatched by any other on this Earth. And no matter the amount of time-outs, raised voices, slammed doors, “That’s not fair(s)!”, “You’re the worst, Mom(s)!”, tears, “I’m sorry(s)”, and mended hearts; that will never change.

For she is yours. And you are hers.


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