To my Daughter

Dear Gillian-

When you're old enough to read this, you might be surprised by how many intimate details of your life I shared so publicly. You might be embarrassed that I explained in painstaking detail, for the world to see, about things like your bowel movements (and subsequent experimentation using your own excrement as a new art form), or your moments of blazing divaness, and endless photos and videos of you nude or near nude (though I have been careful to keep your non-generic baby parts off limits, so I deserve a tiny bit of credit). I have written about the good and the bad of our experience together, because if I had only written about the good I would be bearing false witness to my own experience as a parent. And no child, even you (my amazing girl), is perfect.

I guess I do all this documenting so as not to forget the intimate details of our lives, at various moments, as we move through them together. I want to preserve these hourglass grains, to freeze them, so I can take them out any time I want, relish them, and remember us as we were along the way. One day, when you have something in your life you love more than anything else you have ever loved, you might also feel the desire to remember every second you have in that space.

And even in the shadow days, the days of transition, the ones where we have worn eachother so thin we're see-through...even then I love you. My awareness of just how much is made that much more clear by the perspective of our emotional highs and lows. These days, right now, are days like that. But even in the middle of this maelstrom, there are moments where you fill me up so much I overflow. For example, the other day you stubbornly insisted on carrying the two oranges we bought at the grocery all the way home, one in each arm. Even though you dropped them a lot along the way, you wouldn't put them in the bag and carry it. Because you had decided how you foresaw our trip home, and it included an orange tenderly cradled in each arm, and hell or high water, that is exactly the trip you intended to have...

Then there are days that glisten like diamonds-perfect days that feel like a dream. Days where I find myself thinking about how I'd always hoped being a parent would be like this. We play and I scoop you up-you are so small-and we laugh and we sing. Sometimes you pucker your little cupid's bow mouth and lean in for a kiss, which is usually followed by your favorite thing these days-a "Big Hug". For the record, there is not much else I'd rather be doing than sitting or standing anywhere with your tiny little arms wrapped around my neck, hands patting me on the back like you're the Mama...

I apologize in advance for all the times I will disappoint you. Infalliability is a part of the human condition, and I assume we will hurt eachother along the way. I apologize if you ever feel neglected because I have to go to work so much. There will be times where I am out of town or deployed somewhere and we won't have our gilded moments together. I have to admit that even if I didn't have to work I would, because I need something for myself outside of our home. I perceive my place in the world as a parent, a woman, an artist, and a scientist. All those things have to maintain equilibrium so I can appreciate all the facets of my life. Although I fantasized a million times about the idea of staying home full time with children, I would not have been fulfilled having done so.

So, on the cusp of the close of your second year of life, know you are adored, completely. You teach me every day who I am and what I value.

Love,
Your Mama