Me Teaching Her? Probably Not So Much..

Before I had my baby, I knew who I was. I had it locked up tight – I knew what I stood for, what I believed, how I felt about my family (mostly awesome, but not always!), my job, etc.

It takes about 4.8 months after giving birth for that all to go out the window. When they’re babies, they’re just bawling, adorable, pooping bundles of need. When their personalities start to develop outwardly, that’s when shit gets real.

When M started sitting up and showing an interest in the world around her, all of a sudden I felt terrified of how I was going to explain that world to her, and shield her from all of the hurts. When she started showing a preference for toys, people, etc., I worried about how those same toys and people would affect her sense of self-worth. Over-the-top? Maybe…but I don’t think so.

I struggled (and still do, who am I kidding) my whole life with low self-esteem and a non-existent view of my own worth. As I grew older, a lot of that struggle fell away (thankfully!) as I realized that I had been looking in all the wrong places for those two things – everywhere but me. My mother was not exactly in tune with this struggle, growing up; she wasn’t INsensitive – she had four kids to look after, with our newly blended family. With 3 preteen boys and 1 preschool-aged girl, she had enough on her plate just making sure we all actually ate from one. With one boy with special needs and another with seriously troubling behavior, my other brother and I sometimes fell between the cracks. By rebelling at an early age and leaving the nest of my own accord I certainly widened those gaps, but we eventually – through a lot of loss – found our way back.

As my life experience has increased, and when I myself became a step-mother at 23, my eyes opened more to exactly how much my parents struggled while raising us. Learning to appreciate my mother with new eyes, instead of the resentment I usually carried, was refreshingly awesome. Being able to now have her as my friend in this parenting ride is the gift I always wanted, and now I am able to tell her so, and show her how much she is appreciated. I always thought of her as a very formidable woman who would take no prisoners, and while that still holds true, I no longer make her adhere, in my mind, to that standard: I know she has flaws like the rest of us, and that makes me feel even closer to her.

And because I now have a daughter, I understand now how difficult it can be for mothers who struggle with their own identities and feelings of self-worth to raise strong, assertive, confident women. I am afraid for what my daughter will face in her life, because I know how much the hurts hurt. I will not keep the hurts from her (as if I could, anyway), they are what help us grow as compassionate and sympathetic people. My fear isn’t in her feeling them, it’s in her not keeping the lesson. My hope is that I can teach her the importance of the lessons….and impart the knowledge that every. single. hurt. has a lesson, whether we see it immediately or years later.

I try really hard to lead by example, and to treat others how I would like to be treated. In this case, all I can do is grow with her, and while I am teaching her about her own value as a person and a woman, I am going to teach myself too. She has already taught me so much: about confidence and facing challenges with a smile; about myself and my own mother, that I finally feel like I deserve to treat myself better.

Because, really, who needs to carry that shit around??