You will never know, my dear daughter, how you became my whole world, you changed my whole world and you will always be my world. “Ugh, mom, you never pay attention to me!” my eldest son said angrily the other day. The dᴇʟɪᴄᴀᴛᴇ Fᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇs ᴄʀᴜᴍᴘʟᴇᴅ of him in his face as he crosses his arms and Fʀᴏᴡɴᴇᴅ towards me.
I tried not to laugh out loud as I pulled her closer to me, remembering the months we spent together, alone, just her and me. The days I literally spent holding her, the hours I spent reading with her, the naps we shared, the way she was my whole world, and how my whole world changed. You will never know how she can beat a heart outside of her body, steady and strong, unwavering in her dedication to you. The truth, my daughter, you will never know how I studied you, each freckle on your nose an imprint on my heart, your features so new and at the same time familiar.
You will never know the way you ʋi sleep, echoes of “You stop sleeping when the ƄeƄé sleeps!” filling my cup, but he couldn’t look away, so in awe of the simple fact that you were here, that once you resided nestled inside of me. You will never know the ʋreturns I gave, the ᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴᴇss sᴇᴛᴛʟɪɴɢ in my ʙᴏɴᴇs like me ʜᴜsʜᴇᴅ and ʙᴏᴜɴᴄᴇᴅ and ᴘʀᴀʏ ᴇᴅ, wishing you find ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇ against the pain that I didn’t know was in your ʋbelly. You will never know the decisions that seemed so big at the time: Bʀᴇᴀsᴛ Fᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ or not? Forever ban on French fries or give in early? Organic strawberries or save money? You will never know how breathless it is when I look at you, how amazing it is when you seem to grow overnight, when you move with the grace of a woman but you sleep like the ƄeƄé that a ʋez holds.
You will never know how I love to grow up, how I love everything you do for your brothers, how you carry the burden of being the oldest, and a girl, with such grace. You’ll never know that I’ll still hear you when you sleep, that I’ll never stop brushing the loose hair from your eyes so I can see your beautiful face. You will never know the rage a mother can feel when someone crosses her little daughter, the way my stomach hurts for you when you get nervous, the way I feel what you feel. You will never know how my greatest Fᴇᴀʀ in the ʋida is to lose you, it is that you move away from me, slowly as you grow. You will never know how each step, each breath, each time I see you think of another, each story you tell, each movement you do, makes me marvel at the gift you are.
You will never know, my dear daughter, how you became my whole world, you changed my whole world and you will always be my world. But I `m here. Even when you think I’m not. And that is a promise.
