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Dear Emma,
My firstborn, my precious girl—the one we prayed for and who lights up our lives. It feels like just yesterday when you were a little toddler, chasing after the cat. Now, here you are, confidently behind the wheel of my SUV, learner’s permit in hand, ready to master that three-point turn. You’re excelling in your honors classes and showcasing your incredible singing voice.
When I was your age, I thought my parents were overly strict. I felt suffocated by curfews, constant questions about my whereabouts, and concerns about my grades. But now that I’m navigating the parenting waters with you, I see it differently. My parents weren’t strict; they were scared. And honestly, I’m scared too.
At 16, you’re on the brink of adulthood, but you still have your moments of childhood—like when you sing along to Disney songs or snuggle up with your beloved Blankie. You still laugh that infectious belly laugh that reminds me of when you were little. Despite the growing up, you occasionally seek comfort from me, curling up for a good cry even if you don’t fit on my lap like you used to.
The world outside can be intimidating. As your parent, I set boundaries to protect you, but I know you see them as restrictions. You want to ride with friends or go out on your boyfriend’s boat, and I worry—not about you, but about the unpredictable world around you. I’m not concerned about your judgment; I’m concerned about the environment you might find yourself in. It’s not about trust; it’s about keeping you safe.
You are already such a resilient young woman, facing challenges that would shake many adults. Your strength and empathy shine through, and I admire your ability to learn and grow. But I still want to shield you from the harsher realities of life. When you were little, my worries were about scraped knees; now they’re about bigger threats.
While I want you to thrive and embrace life, letting go is tough. You want to sleep over at a friend’s house right after school, and my instinct is to have you come home first for a quick check-in. Not because I don’t trust you, but because I want to see your face and know you’re okay.
While you’re growing up, I need to remind myself that you’re still figuring things out. Sometimes I feel unappreciated, but I have to remember that you’re navigating your teenage years, which can be self-centered. I don’t do things for recognition; I do them out of love.
In just two years, you’ll be off to college, and that thought makes my heart race. I won’t see you get off the bus or have those lazy Saturdays together. But I want you to embrace this new chapter—meet new people, take new classes, and challenge yourself in ways you never imagined.
Everything I do comes from an unconditional love for you. Curfews aren’t meant to be punitive; they’re there so I can breathe easier knowing you’re safe. I ask about school because I want you to strive for your best, not out of pressure, but from that deep maternal instinct that drives me.
My dad loved the song “Teach Your Children” by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, and it brings tears to my eyes as a mom now. The lyrics resonate with me deeply, reflecting the love and fears we carry for our children. So, Emma, please remember to look at me and sigh, knowing that I love you beyond words.
If you’re curious about more on this topic, check out this excellent resource for pregnancy and this guide on home insemination. You can also find an authoritative source on the subject at Make a Mom.
With all my love,
Mom
Summary
A heartfelt letter from a mother to her teenage daughter, reflecting on the challenges of parenting and the bittersweet nature of watching her grow up. The mom expresses her fears, love, and desire for her daughter to thrive in a complex world.