A Letter To My Daughter on Her 13th Birthday

Before my children were born, I decided to write a letter to them when I was pregnant, one when they were born, and one every year thereafter on their birthday. Given that I am two weeks away from my due date, I figured I should probably write BabyGirlieGirl's now...

Hello My Darling Girl...

You are not here yet -- that is, you are very much a presence, but as I write this, you are still nestled inside of me, warm and comfortable, listening to the beating of my heart.  I can't imagine what 13 year old you is like -- I have tried, but all I can see is the baby snuggled in my womb, the baby who gets the hiccups at 2 in the morning and wakes me up, the baby who is attempting to punch her way through my belly button right now, the baby I am desperate to meet.

Unless God has another plan for your father and I, you are our last child.  My last pregnancy.  The last time I will feel a child move inside of me.  You are our baby.  And you complete our family.

I always wanted four children.  And your dad did too -- at least, he said he does.  Even when we thought we were done having children after your brother was born, I always knew that we had more children waiting for us to get our act together.  So know that you are wanted, and loved, and necessary.  Your timing was a surprise, yes, but a blessing just the same -- I wouldn't trade you or your timing for anything.

I am afraid that I don't know much about being the fourth child.  Your dad does, and he says it's no big deal.  Your Aunt Megan does, and she says it's a very big deal.  So I am going to assume that the line is somewhere in the middle.  Know that I love you just as much as I love your brother and sisters.  And that I will always try to be fair, but life isn't always fair -- but I will do my best to make your life within our family fair.

What do I hope for you, my baby girl?

I hope you know that you are beautiful.  Yes, I write that without having the slightest clue as to what you look like (although the last ultrasound showed you didn't have any hair, like your older brother and sister).  I want you to know that you are beautiful because you are mine and your father's -- you are beautiful because you are ours.

I hope that you are strong -- not just physically (although as the baby, I am sort of expecting -- and dreading -- the fact that you will probably be able to knock your brother and sisters on their butts), but mentally and emotionally.  I hope you have a strong sense of self -- that is something your father and I will strive to give you every day.  You don't have to agree with us all the time.  You don't have to try to make everyone happy -- you can't.  But I hope you can make yourself happy.

With that being said, I hope you are not selfish.  Yes, you are a teenager.  Yes, you probably think the world revolves around you.  It doesn't.  The world is bigger than you are -- I hope you can recognize that and take an active part in trying to make the world better -- this will make you better too.

I hope you know that I can't fix everything.  I wish I could.  I wish that you could come to me with every hurt and I could wave a magic wand to make it go away.  But I can't.  In order for you to grow, and learn, and be who God intends you to be, sometimes all I can do is wipe away your tears, listen to your sorrows, hold you while you cry, bake you cookies, and pray that will be enough.  And I hope you know that even if I can't fix it, I want to know about it -- sometimes talking about the hurt can be enough.  

I hope that you are smart -- and that you realize that acting dumb is stupid.  Knowledge is power, my love.  Don't waste or pretend not to have yours.

And as you enter your teenage years, I hope you realize that girls can be mean.  So can boys.  So can people.  Don't hang out with those people.  They don't deserve you.  And don't be a mean girl.  Treat people with kindness.  Live so that no one can say anything bad about you. 

Lastly, I hope you know that I am trying my best.  I know I make mistakes and yell and I am not always the mother you deserve.  I am sorry.  I love you and your sisters and your brother more than you will ever know (until you have children of your own).  I want to be better for you.  You make me better.  I hope you know that -- that you make a better mother, woman, and person.

I hope you know that you can talk to me about anything and I will always love you.

Love,

Mom