My Daughter

I was so terrified to have a daughter. If you read even a couple of older posts you'll understand. I was so scared. I knew she was a girl long before we saw her dance across the ultrasound screen, like a little alien in an old movie, punching little fists against my inner belly.

I knew she was a girl and I was petrified.
Until I met her.

She screamed at everyone, purple - faced and mad as hell, just like her brothers, except this one screamed a little longer, until the nurse let her be and I cuddled her close. She quieted there, in my arms, with her tiny fingernail ed fingers wrapped like vices around my index finger.

Then, I fell in love in a way I never knew. There's something that happens between a mother and a daughter that doesn't exist between a mother and son, although that relationship is absolutely amazing in and of itself. But there's something between a woman and her daughter.

A knowing. A stirring of the will in both. One holds the other and vice versa from day one.
I am strong for her...and for myself.
There is so much more worry about being a role model.
About teaching her to be strong.
Teaching her to not take shit from anyone, but also teaching her that being kind trumps all things...and that being kind and genuine are signs of great strength, especially during the rough times that are inevitable.

There is that knowing...the thought of the future that we know as women. Something we simply cannot know for our sons.

There is a connection between a mother and her daughter that touches the very core...deep down inside and almost hurts.

And when she cuddles to me, holds my hair in her hand and lays her head full of yellow curls on my shoulder, I cannot help but thank god and the sun and the stars that she is here.

My little banshee girl.
And I love will her to my end in a way I have never ever loved another.