I read it to her for the first time when she was a few weeks old with tears welling in my eyes. I was so in love with her and with the idea that I would get to share moments like these with this, my daughter.
You might call it a healing moment.
I was afraid of having a daughter. I was afraid that she would see through me and not like what she found. After my son was born I erroneously believed that if I had more children they would be boys. I think that was mostly fear telling me that a boy could love me deeply, but not a girl.
It’s not that I didn’t want a girl; I was afraid, and deep down still am, that someday she won’t like me.
As I read that book to her the first time I was overwhelmed by how much I hoped that she would like to read as much as I do. This simple thought, that my daughter and I could snuggle together and read and share and laugh and cry and love, was so profound in that moment.
I still read this book to her several nights each week. One of my favorite lines comes from a poem titled “Bedtime Story.” The ending touches something deep inside of me each time I speak these words aloud.
“I’ll help you remember the wording.
It has to be told just right.
And then you can tell me it all again
Tomorrow – and every night!”
“I’ll help you remember the wording.
It has to be told just right.
And then you can tell me it all again
Tomorrow – and every night!”
I can’t explain what moves me so about this passage other than it’s the idea that one day, when she is older, she might have a favorite story. She might want me to tell it to her in the way only I can. It will be our story, and in sharing this bedtime story together, we are creating part of our mother daughter story.
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