A letter to my first born child...

Dear Miss B-

You are 8 years old now, and old enough to know something that breaks my heart to admit: I don't have all the answers. Yes, I do know when you haven't brushed your teeth. I also know that you didn't brush the bottom layers of you hair. How do I know this? Because neither thing happens until I ask you about it. So if I didn't ask, I'm pretty sure you haven't done it yet.

But there are times, many times in fact, when I don't know what answer to give you. When we hear a story about someone hurting a child, I cannot tell you why it happened. Sure, I can say that someone was angry, hurt, confused, crazy, or just plain bad, but I cannot explain why one person will react with such an extreme, violent reaction.

When you tell me about someone not being kind to you, I can try to look at the situation from that person's point of view. "Maybe MeanKid was having a bad day today and took it out on you." "Perhaps MeanKid was jealous that you were able to do that so easily." But the truth is, even if those excuses are true, I cannot explain why anyone would ever not love you.

This is the biggest mystery to most mothers. Sure, I know that my kids have their moments, but how could anyone not adore you? Someday soon, a boy will break your heart. And mine will break as well. I can see what a great person you already are, but I can also see the wonderful potential your future holds. It hurts this mother's heart to even think about you being rejected or unappreciated.

You are the complete package. You are beautiful inside and out. You were an adorable baby, and now you are growing into a lovely young lady. You wish you were blond and had blue eyes, but your light brown hair and gray eyes are more striking. Those freckles you hate, they are just the perfect addition to your sweet face. And more importantly, let's talk about your heart. You are so tenderhearted that you try to please everyone, rather than disappointing them. While I love your willing spirit, I worry that you will be hurt more easily. But you are smart. And I love that you are outgoing and friendly. You are that lucky mix of bookworm and social butterfly. You are intelligent, but not awkward because of it.

And yet someday, some seemingly nice boy will make you doubt all that I know is true. You will think you are ugly and awkward, dumb and selfish. You will believe these things, and I will never be able to understand why. Sure, I will know that this boy or best friend has hurt you, but I will never be able to figure out why you believe them. You, who is so special and lovable. You, who is so giving and gentle. You will cry and hurt and wonder who will ever love someone like you. But just turn around... I will always be there with my hand raised to volunteer for such an opportunity. And while you may tell yourself that Mom's love doesn't count, just know that not only do I love you... I like you too. I'm the lucky one here.

My love may not make everything easier for you, but it will never be something you have to doubt.

Love always,

Mom