For My Daughter
Every mother has hopes and dreams. From the moment
you hear you are pregnant you imagine the tiny seed of life inside; boy or girl,
blonde or brunette, sparkling blue or hazel – so many possibilities. And
from that second on you dream about what this little person will become and
the potential is endless. Even more endless are the ways that child will differ
from the being you envisioned. My seedling was a boy. I was positive I was having
a boy, his name was Logan and he had dirty blonde hair. He would play all day
in with his yellow Tonka trucks and get his little OshKosh overalls filthy.
He was going to be the protective big brother to his sister who, I was sure,
would be born two years later. Logan, I talked to him day and night, playing
music to him and telling him all about the crazy things that we would do together
in the world.
On July 28th, three weeks late, came my baby – a beautiful, dark haired,
brown eyed…girl. And I forgot all about Logan. The baby I had talke d
to all those months was an imaginary friend and this little amazing creature
hadn’t minded one bit. She was content to lie peacefull in my arms and
breathe her soft little breath against my chest as I dreamed new dreams. Sierra,
whom we almost named Raven for her dark hair and eyes, would be a striking presence.
When she walked into a room she would take over and everyone would know she
was a force not to be messed with. She would become a leader, taking charge
in the face of danger. And I decided all this based on her dark features, which
faded within two days.
The little baby that came home with me was sweet and gentle. She had chestnut
eyes that sparkled when you talked to her and took in everything around her.
The handfull of dark hair that had adorned her head at birth were gone and the
wisps that were left were virtually blonde. Sierra was content to be held and
admired. She smiled and giggled at everyone; family, friends and strangers alike.
A new life began to emerge, a life full of making others feel good about themselves.
The simple presence of Sierra made life good. The giggles she made and the slight
ring to the coo of her voice we so calming and soothing. Sierra would be a peacekeeper.
Now, this dream is still alive. Sierra has become the dream. She is the tranquil
diplomat of her friends and the guardian to so many younger kids I am amazed
she has time for herself. She still has the ring in her voice and giggles without
abandon. Her little heart has been through more heartbreak than I thought a
heart could bear and still she goes on, caring for those around her. Now, this
serene attitude is not always directed at me, she is as stobborn as I am and
this makes for interesting times with us. But mothers and daughters are supposed
to butt heads and so I accept that our stubbornness will simply be a way of
life. But for others, the ones who need it the most, she is a friend and confidant.
She takes care of them and makes sure they are happy.
No matter what the rest of her life brings she is a good person. My daughter,
the little being that I had such high hopes for has surpassed everything I could
have imagined. And whether she becomes a doctor or a teacher or a garbage collector
she had already made me prouder than I could ever be…because she cares.