What I Wish My Daughter’s Future Therapist Would Understand

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Dear Dr. Smith,

Recently, my daughter, Lila, shared with me that God gave her a special dimple just to keep my kisses safe. At 5 years old, she has an endless supply of adorable remarks that melt my heart. Her big brother, Ethan, who is 8, impresses me with his insightful observations about life. But there’s something uniquely enchanting about the cuteness of a 5-year-old girl. Every day feels like a delightful adventure filled with rainbows, sparkles, and her little pockets for my affection.

This morning, Lila was curious about when her dad would return from his business trip. “Mommy, when is Daddy coming back from Your Ami?” she asked. I gently corrected her, “He’s in Miami.” To which she confidently replied, “That’s what I said, Mommy. Your Ami.” Just too cute to handle!

But I know that as she grows, our relationship may not always be filled with such sweetness. Ask any mom of a tween or teenager, and you’ll hear a familiar refrain: “Just wait…” followed by a nostalgic pause as they remember their own little unicorn-loving girls who once stored kisses in their favorite toys.

Moms of older kids always seem to warn us about the challenges ahead. They say things like, “Just wait until her cuteness turns into eye rolls,” or “Just wait until she starts questioning everything you do.” I’ve already experienced some of these moments. Like the time Lila yelled from the backseat of the car, frustrated because she dropped her water bottle. “Mom, you are the worst! You are gisdusting!” Sure, it stung a little, but how can I be upset when she’s learning and growing?

Being a mom means we often bear the brunt of our kids’ meltdowns and frustrations. We know that these moments are fleeting, and we cherish the love and cuddles that come with them. But when I hear my friends with teens say, “Just wait until you’re questioning every choice you made,” I can’t help but feel a bit anxious.

Living in a city like LA, where mental health is a priority, I realize that Lila will likely have a therapist one day. I have my own experience with therapy and understand its value, but I worry that she might spend more time talking about me and my shortcomings. It weighs on my mind.

I’m not afraid of her discussing my moments of frustration or the times I forgot to make dinner. What truly concerns me is that she might think my struggles are a reflection of her worth. It’s a common challenge for young girls to take things personally, and I want to help her navigate those feelings.

So, Dr. Smith, when Lila is sharing her thoughts with you, please remind her of the many times I took her to Chuck E. Cheese’s, enduring the chaos and sensory overload just to see her smile. That’s a true testament to a mother’s love, even if it often goes unnoticed.

Kids have a tendency to forget the countless sacrifices we make. They may not remember the nights I stayed up late to help with school projects or the times I rushed to fix her favorite outfit. Instead, they remember the moments we didn’t get it right.

Also, don’t forget to mention the Legos. Lila received a massive Lego set for Hanukkah, and we spent weeks assembling it together. It was a labor of love, filled with her moments of frustration and tears over tiny pieces. Eventually, I finished the project when she wasn’t home, and the joy on her face when she saw it complete was worth every second.

I built that Lego bus not just for her happiness in the moment, but to instill a sense of long-term happiness and self-worth. I want her to love herself deeply and not be bogged down by the same insecurities I faced.

If Lila expresses doubts about my love, please reassure her that I’ve gone to Chuck E. Cheese’s, faced my fears to kill spiders, and so much more—all quietly and with love. When she wonders why I didn’t show more love, remind her that my love is endless and wild, even if I sometimes forget to make dinner.

Finally, please hug her for me and remind her that life will be okay. She’ll get through whatever challenges come her way, and one day, she might find herself in the same position as a mother. “Just wait…” you can tell her, “Just wait.”