God knew exactly what he was doing when he made me a girl mom.
Shortly before I got pregnant, I can recall on more than one occasion pleading with him to listen to reason. I knew boys. I had been getting to know my nephew for over a year, and had gotten used to the ebb and flow, and overall ‘jest’ of boyhood. I also knew that the term ‘mama’s boy’ was not to be taken lightly. From what I could see, my nephew couldn’t get enough of his mom, and was the sweetest, kindest little soul. I wanted that, because I wasn’t intimidated by its familiarity.
Once I did get pregnant, the reality set in that I now had a 50/50 chance of actually having a girl. What was once just theoretical banter with God, had now become an all too real fear.
Then I found out Charlotte Emilia Recchion was well on her way.
The internal panic set in. ‘What if she didn’t love me?’ I highly disliked my mom. We were never close. ‘What if I ruin her?’ Significant damage had been done by mine, and our relationship had been strained from what I feel like was straight out of the womb. I had so many doubts, and was annoyed at God. The fact of the matter was, I couldn’t do this. I wasn’t meant to be a girl mom. I wanted a boy. My partner wanted a boy. This wasn’t fair. I was not up to the challenge of having to re-write my own manual on this toxic, uncharted territory. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t break the cycle.
Looking back on it now, I’m able to laugh a little. Of course he gifted me what I didn’t know I needed. God gets me, he knows my heart. There hasn’t been very many moments or situations in my life that I’ve felt uncomfortable in, that he hasn’t challenged me to face head-on. I can honestly say that my strength lies in the fact that he’s never steered me in the wrong direction. I stray, he gently redirects. I push back, he convicts my judgement. I say no, he says ‘I’ll be here when…’ so it only makes sense that he would want me to deconstruct and rebuild the biggest wall in life; raising my own daughter.
Now I couldn’t imagine life without her. I wake up every morning to this gummy, wrinkled-nose grin, and can’t help but swoon. My Charlie is a vocal, sassy, funny little spitfire; and I am so honored that she chose me to be her mom.
That being said, there are at least a few minutes of each day that the anxiety of not doing right by her hits me. God can reiterate time and time again how big his presence is in my life, and I will always question his motives. Trust was never my strong suit. All the mean while, Every time she hits a milestone, or recognizes my face when we lock eyes; there is no denying that the very core of me aches with the need to give this kid everything I am in order to make her existence matter.
I want to show her that kindness and tolerance starts at home. That you can stand strong in your foundation and still love anyone that views the world differently than you. To never settle in complacency with herself, or let those around her bring her down in theirs. That it’s okay to cry at the little things, and at the big things; because her feelings are important. That we won’t always agree, and that there will be a day when she does really feel like she hates me, and will tell me so; but we’ll both know that it couldn’t be further from the truth. I want her to not have to apologize to the world for her every step, and instead stir up revolutions in spite of it. To not stand idly by while others are suffering, talking about what could be done, instead of acting in the middle of the resolve. That no matter how high she sets her own expectations, doing the best she can will always be good enough. I want her to know, love, and rely on God in ways that I never did (and most of the time still don’t) and to get used to her mom being fully engaged in her life; even when she finds it SO annoying; because that will mean I’m doing something right by her, after all.
I will always struggle with the void that comes with not having the typical mother/daughter relationship. I realize that I am one of many; and that’s why it’s even more important for all of us to stick together, and understand that we are not alone. It can be very isolating. I got lucky, because there has never been a lack of nurturing substitutes in my life. As I’ve grown, so has my support system. Still, it doesn’t take away from what’s missing.
As always, I encourage other new mom’s (or ladies in general) that this topic may strike a chord with, to reach out, and share your struggles. Dysfunction isn’t shameful, it’s eye-opening.