A Letter From Mom

Dear Victoria,

It’s 9:40pm., January 2, 2008 – Happy New Year!

You’re about 8 weeks old. I’ve bathed you which was very harrowing for you, sorry about that. I’ve put you in your very warm fleece PJs , fed you your 4 ozs, swaddled you and laid you in your crib.

This is the first night I’ve given you a bedtime. You were in bed by 8p and it has been glorious for me. I’ve been able to fold the laundry, wash your bottles, have a treat and even watch a little TV. Someday, you’ll understand.

But I miss you. I miss looking down and seeing you slumber – your incredibly sweet little face; peaceful, safe and content. I miss seeing your rosy, plump cheeks, your little lashes and your perfect nose. I can’t help but put the baby monitor up close to my ear every few minutes just to hear you breathe your little baby breaths.

I don’t know when you’ll read this; when you’ll be old enough to understand.

I hold you and wonder about your future, like every mom does. I wonder about who you’ll be, the choices you’ll make, and hope you’ll be happy with your life and yourself. I find myself feeling envious of you sometimes. Your life has just begun and you have this clean slate – a beautifully clean slate full of opportunities and adventures. Today you have no regrets.

Then it breaks my heart to know I can’t protect you from pain and hurt. That someday someone will hurt your feelings, and you’ll hurt someone else. Someone won’t like you, someone will say mean things, some boy will break up with you, and you’ll feel fat and ugly. It will hurt. It will shake your confidence in yourself and there is nothing I can do about it. As helpless as you are now, it leaves me feeling more helpless.

So for today, I just enjoy you.

It’s amazing to look at your beautiful bright eyes, your delicate fingers lightly resting on the bottle.

You are utter perfection.

I used to gripe to my mom about how I thought my hands were ugly. She’d come back quickly and say they weren’t and they were “hands with talent.” How lame that sounded to a young girl who was far more interested in being cute than having talent. But I get it now. I know there will be a day you’ll look in the mirror and see nothing but flaws, we females are like that. How do I show you the perfection you are? How can I bring you back to this moment, this time of pure innocence and show you just how exquisite you are? It’s baffling to me that you could look at anything about yourself and not think, “I’m completely amazing.” But I’ve been your age and I know that it’s difficult.

So be kind to yourself. Please be kind. For this perfect wide-eyed creature resting so peacefully in my arms, please, please promise me you won’t be mean to her.