A Letter To My Seven Week Old Daughter

In Inspiration by Kristen Dalton Wolfe4 Comments

Wow, I can’t believe you’re only seven weeks. It feels like you are your own little personality already. I feel like we’ve already gone through several stages and phases together. People say this season flies and I’m sure it will feel that way in hindsight, but right now it feels like we’ve been doing this life together a long, long time. You are so mature, aware and interactive.

In the first few weeks, I felt so inadequate and scared caring for you. I was scrambling to read everything I had clearly missed and to bridge where my maternal instincts were lacking. I cried when you cried. My heart would race when you were upset and I couldn’t relax. I wondered how in the world I’d ever be able to enjoy a meal again.

Now, you have adjusted to the world outside my womb and you’ve done it so well. I’m so proud of you. You don’t cry when I change your diaper, dress you or swaddle you anymore. You aren’t resisting the bottle and you made it an entire church service without fussing! You’re already smiling and playing with me and daddy. My favorite part is how you love bath time!

There is something really interesting I’ve noticed as a mother. I dreamed of that sensation mothers talk about when they look at their babies. I was waiting for that overwhelming feeling to believe I could protect you from pain and unwise choices and people and regret. I’ve always dreamed of being best friends with my future daughter. But when I look at you in my arms, I am met with a more sobering realization of what’s to come.

I’m surprised by this feeling. Usually, I’m more romantic. Being the idealist I am, it may be God’s way of arming me with the truth I need to be the best mother I can to you. If I believed I could save you from pain and mistakes, I’d feel a lot of pressure that could cause me to break. If I believed I could make sure you lived out God’s purpose for your life, I’d wonder where I went wrong as your mother if you didn’t. If I believed we’d be best friends and you’d love spending time with me and think I’m the wisest person on the planet, I’d get my feelings hurt when you made fun of me and make a resolve to raise your children differently than I raised you. Not to say they won’t get hurt, but hopefully not as badly.

It’s like the Lord is being sweet and gracious to both of us by letting me in on this knowing. It gives me a heart posture of surrender. I can give you all I have and teach you all I know, but I can’t control what you do with that. I love you and will never stop. I want the absolute best for you. I want you to exceed me in life by having the wisdom to accept your generational blessings and run with them. I want to set you up for the life God has for you and I want us to be close. I want us to have so much fun doing things together, talking about boys and your hurts, your dreams and your questions.

But ultimately, you are God’s daughter. I am thankful He entrusted me to raise you. I pray every day He leads me in how He would do it. I want to believe I will be perfect for you because of that. I don’t want to fail you, but I will. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will. I don’t want you to slam your bedroom door because you think I’m ruining your life, but you might. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me about hard things, but you might. I don’t want you to date the wrong guy who breaks your heart, but you might. I don’t want to hurt each other’s feelings.

I’m thankful for this foresight so I’m not as shocked if you do the opposite of what you know is right. I’m thankful so my feelings aren’t as hurt if you say you don’t want to be like me. I’m thankful for this knowing so I can surrender control to God, for He is your perfect parent. All I can do is train you up and arm you with the knowledge and wisdom I have and then surrender you to Him.

I do believe the best about you. I believe you’re going to be incredible.

I’ve always believed in fairytales. The Lord has given me the foresight that being a mother isn’t going to be a fairytale. At least in the rose-colored glasses sense. But it will be our own fairytale because I will always love you. And we will have our ups and downs, but hopefully we always come back together with more love and compassion than before.

I love you so much baby girl. You’re my favorite and my best friend next to your daddy (at least for now 🙂

 

Comments

  1. So precious Kristen! I’ve always been scared of postpartum depression because every woman has had a totally different account of how it’s hit them so I’ve never known exactly what to expect which can be so scary but I’ve felt so encouraged reading your stories and how you have just allowed yourself to feel all the feelings and also choosing the truth no matter what! You’re so strong Kristen and such a fighter for your family. Love your vulnerability and sharing so much! 😘xxoxo

  2. This post was so authentic and beautiful, Kristen!

    I am a Christ-following young adult who has been following you guys (you and your husband’s) blogs for the past couple of years. Both always have incredible content that is very inspiring. Please don’t take this the wrong way–I am not trying to be one of “those” people online…I am trying to kickstart my own blog. I have been at it for a while, but have not yet learned the art of making my posts public. If you would, may you please spend some time checking out my blog here, http://[email protected], and offer some words of advice on how to get to the next level? My heart is to encourage people and meet them where they are at. I do plenty of this in “real life,” but I would like to broaden my audience.

    Thank you, Kristen!
    Rachel

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