To My Daughter- One Day I Hope You Understand…

I watch you so often struggling, and I see you getting the short end of the stick far too often. But I hope that one day you will understand that your Mom loves you and that I tried the best that I could.

I had so many dreams of being your Mom.

  • I was going to read fabulous literature to you.
  • I was going to champion your every effort.
  • I was going to have home cooked delicious meals for you every night.
  • I was going to ensure that you had a deep and abiding relationship with God.
  • I was going to make sure you learned to dance, draw, play music, reach for the stars and I was going to be there to help you every minute of the way.
  • I wanted to show and share with you so many wonderful things in this world and SO much more!

Your brother takes so much time and effort to manage his autistic meltdowns; all his medical appointments and then the time I have to spend fighting with schools and insurance companies. I don’t have much patience or time left. I see you. I hear you. I love you. But I feel like I fail you all the time.

For a lot of your life I’ve been dealing with back pain issues and you have had to deal with me being out of commission a lot, as I’ve dealt with the pain and then the eventual two surgeries on my back. I wasn’t available often as I had to rest or couldn’t physically move and missed helping you to be in talent shows and other things you wanted to do. I felt like I was failing as a mother when you had to often pack your own lunch, bring me breakfast and basically run the house when you were way too young. Now my back issues are mostly under control but other health issues have arisen and once again you are finding me not as available as I would like with these issues and your brother. 

I love that you are so independent, but fear that it’s because I’ve been so unavailable that you are. I worry because I see the resentment build up towards me, towards your brother. I hope you understand that I am trying my best, but life doesn’t come with instruction manuals. I’m fumbling my way around trying to figure out how to balance all this craziness and I fail. I fail often. I hope one day you see me as a person, not just your Mom and can give me grace, that you don’t have to spend hours on some psychologist’s couch trying to make sense of why your Mom was often unavailable to you. She tried. She really tried.

I hope one day… you understand.


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