From that little seed of hope, I discovered hope. Inadvertently, of course. I didn’t think I needed “hope” when I got pregnant, but, as I carried her to term, my sense of (needing) hope grew.
Hope and strength. Momma Bear strength. All of us female mammals possess it. The softness to be our offspring’s favorite landing spot when their tummies hurt or when there’s a monster in the closet…and also the fierceness of the momma bear when injustice prevails.
If not for me, for you.”
This is our chant…the maternal oath we make when we procreate.
I promise to be your guardian angel on earth. I will expose my weaknesses so they become your strengths. I will show you it’s okay to fall down because I fall down. I will look for the loving solution even when I want to shut down in tears of fear or anger… if not for me, for you…
Then, somewhere along the way, the mantra shifts:
If not you, not me.”
Yes, in the midst of all this, the gift returns to sender. I am reminded of who I am as this magical being called “daughter” plays it out for me in real time.
I rediscover the parallel universe of memory when she screams “whee” on her bike, has full-on conversations with her dolls in the bathtub, or pleas “Mommy, more” when referring to her favorite eats or feats. In her, I remember my childlike essence before I was conditioned to look, say, or act a certain way.
This is the gift of Desi-three…she reminds me to notice the flowers, to sing and splash around, to ask for what I want, and to NOT TAKE LIFE TOO SERIOUSLY!!
Above all, she reminds me that hope is always available. Her three-year old existence proves it. Dream Big. Desiree More.