My dearest Emma, my beloved firstborn. You were the answer to our prayers, the joy that brightens our days. It feels like just yesterday you were a little one, chasing after our cat with those tiny legs of yours. Now, here you are, confidently gripping the steering wheel of my SUV with a learner’s permit tucked in your pocket, ready to master a three-point turn. You’re excelling in your honors classes and nurturing your breathtaking singing talent.
When I was your age, I thought my parents were overly strict. I often felt suffocated by curfews, endless questions about my whereabouts, and expectations regarding my grades. Now, as I navigate parenthood with you, I understand that my parents’ rules stemmed from fear—fear for my safety and well-being. And I share that same fear for you.
You stand on the brink of becoming your own person, yet you’re still my little girl at 16. I still catch you belting out Disney songs and cuddling with your beloved Blankie. You laugh so hard at your friends’ texts, just like you did when you were younger. And even though you rarely cry, there are times when you curl up beside me for comfort, even if you don’t fit quite as well in my lap anymore.
What awaits you out there is both exciting and daunting. The world is unpredictable, and as your parent, I impose limits to keep you safe. You may see these boundaries as constraints on your freedom. You want to ride with a teen driver? I worry about the unpredictable nature of the roads. You wish to go on a boat with your boyfriend for a holiday weekend? It’s not you two I don’t trust; it’s the reckless drivers around you. You want to attend a party where we don’t know the parents? There are all kinds of situations that make us cautious, and it’s hard to ensure your safety in this unpredictable world.
Trust isn’t the issue; you are a remarkable young woman. You’ve faced challenges that would shake many adults, yet you’ve shown resilience and strength that’s innate to you. You tackle problems head-on, learn from them, and grow. Your empathy and kindness are qualities that shine brightly.
I want nothing more than to protect you, to wrap you in love and warmth. It’s hard to let you go into the vast world outside. When you were little, you would run to me for comfort after a fall. My biggest worry then was whether you’d ever learn to use the potty! Now, my concerns are much heavier: who will you turn to for comfort? I worry about the dangers of parties, alcohol, drugs, and more.
While I want to shield you from harm, I also want you to flourish, to enjoy life and build memories with your friends. Letting go is challenging. You might want to go straight to your friend’s house after school for a sleepover, but I find myself wishing you’d come home first, just so I can see you. I want to look into your eyes and remind myself that, despite the eye rolls and sighs, you still love me.
I recognize that you’re still a work in progress, and that sometimes I have to remind myself that my expectations shouldn’t always align with how you feel. I know that as teenagers grow, they can be self-absorbed, and I sometimes feel unappreciated. But I must remind myself that my love and support aren’t contingent on gratitude. I do this for you because I am your mother.
In just two years, you’ll be off to college. That thought makes my heart ache, realizing you won’t be here, sharing everyday moments. You’ll be embarking on an exciting new chapter filled with growth and new experiences.
I truly want you to embrace life, meet new people, challenge yourself, and learn in ways you’ve never imagined. Part of me wishes I could turn back time, when your dad and I were your trusted sources of wisdom and comfort. Secretly, I dream of you taking online courses from home, living in pajamas, and staying here forever—well, maybe until you’re 30!
Always remember, my sweet Emma, that every decision I make comes from a place of love. Setting curfews isn’t meant to be cruel; it’s my way of ensuring you return home safely. I ask about your schoolwork because I want you to strive for your best—not perfection, but your true potential. Every ounce of my guidance comes from an unconditional love that only a mother can understand.
One of my father’s favorite songs was “Teach Your Children” by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, and now, as a mother, it resonates deeply with me. I’ll leave you with some poignant lyrics that capture my sentiments:
“Teach your children well
Their father’s hell did slowly go by
And feed them on your dreams
The one they pick’s, the one you’ll know by…”
So, my daughter, as you look at me, know that I love you deeply, and I’m here for you always.