She has her head on my knee and I run my fingers through her hair as she settles in for an early bedtime. She is my daughter and I am her mother. This is my story.
I love this kid more than life itself and there isn't anything I wouldn't do for her. Growing up, I did not have a child of my own boldly planted on my life radar but now that I have a daughter, I can't imagine my life without her.
I am committed to her. I am committed to her knowing that she is loved, that she matters and that she belongs. I am committed to not imposing my fears, insecurities and doubts on her and letting her discover and experience the world through her own eyes and in her own way.
Simple, right? No, it's not. A recent early morning series of texts between us went like this: