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Living in Trepidation of My Daughter
I can still recall the moment I first heard her cries in the hospital. They were high-pitched and distinctly feminine, a stark contrast to my son’s cries. That sound took me by surprise and made me realize that this journey would be unlike any other. Then, I laid eyes on her—so beautiful, like a delicate porcelain doll, fragile and vulnerable to the world. From that day on, an unsettling anxiety crept into my life as a mother to this little girl. I found myself gripped by fear, knowing that so much of her future would rest on my shoulders.
From the outset, I treated her differently than my son. While he enjoyed co-sleeping for ages, I was determined to “do better” with my daughter. I fought against sleep while rocking her, but she always found her way back to the crib. We never shared those cozy nights, breathing and dreaming in sync. I rationalized this forced separation by recalling the endless battles we had getting her brother to sleep in his own bed, but deep down, it was about more than that.
My relationship with my mother was fraught with disagreements and constant clashes. I resented her choices and felt like an outsider in my own family. She wasn’t there when I gave birth to my children, and I never sought her advice. I truly don’t know what a mother-daughter bond is supposed to feel like.
Perhaps that explains my apprehension.
I’ve always been adventurous, perhaps a bit reckless. I was the one who accepted dares from friends, climbed out of windows at night, and used a fake ID to sneak into bars during high school. I even ran away from home several times. Now, at just three years old, I see those same fearless traits in my daughter—her intensity and stubbornness make me worry she’ll repeat my reckless mistakes.
Maybe that’s part of the problem.
During my teenage years, I broke my father’s heart. We were so close, buddies who shared everything. But my rebellion and betrayal—lying to him repeatedly and ignoring his advice—pushed us apart. I can only imagine how painful that must have been for him.
Maybe that has something to do with it.
When my daughter gets angry, her temper is like a force of nature. She can’t articulate her feelings, so she screams and cries until she’s exhausted. There were months when bedtime turned into a nightly battle, and I joked about how much trouble she’d be as a teenager, but behind that chuckle lies genuine fear.
Maybe that has something to do with it.
She’s always observing me closely. Whether I’m applying lip gloss or getting dressed, she’s there, imitating my every move. She wants to engage in “girly things” with me and wear matching outfits. The pressure is overwhelming. She’s modeling herself after me, and I can’t afford to mess this up.
Maybe that has something to do with it.
The past three years have flown by, and I often wonder if it’s too late for us to build a strong connection. I love her fiercely, matching her wild spirit, and I crave that unique bond that exists between mothers and daughters—the very bond I missed with my own mother. I dream about simple conversations, like those about a first crush, and wonder if she’ll want me by her side when she gives birth to her own children.
My fear stems from deep-seated insecurity, the belief that I’m ill-equipped to be a mother, destined to fail. I worry that any closeness we develop will be fleeting, leaving me with a broken heart again.
Ultimately, I realize that retreating in fear won’t help me build a relationship with my daughter. Time is slipping away, and there’s too much at stake. I need to take a leap of faith and dive headfirst into loving her. The only way to conquer my fears is to love her boldly and hope for the best. After all, she needs me—her one and only mother.
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Summary:
In this candid reflection, Clara Johnson shares her fears and insecurities about parenting her daughter, recognizing the pressures of modeling a positive relationship. Struggling with the weight of her past and the fear of repeating mistakes, she resolves to embrace her role as a loving mother, determined to nurture a connection despite her apprehensions.