...how much I love you? How beautiful you have made my life since the day you were born? Your first cry, oh how wonderful that sound was. Those eyes, those gorgeous brown eyes. The way those eyes would look at me with such trust and unconditional love and wonder. And I would look into those eyes in the middle of the night while I nursed you and your tiny hands would wrap around one finger, and I stared in disbelief at the miracle that only hours before was inside of me. Sometimes it seems like yesterday, and other days, like a dream, a dream I remember every single agonizingly beautiful moment. And every day since that day I hold onto those memories because you changed me, you helped me find the place inside me that I needed to be, the person I was meant to become. Every moment before that single, precious moment was as nothing. All my mistakes, successes, and failures. Things I once thought important. Hurts and struggles I had faced. Previous goals and dreams and desires seemed foolish and childish. All of it faded into nothingness overcome by the beauty of you. With each passing day I loved you more, marveling at the miracle of you in my life. Every day I thought you could never be smarter, funnier, prettier, cuter than you were at that moment, but the next day came and I was wrong. Oh those magical early years, so perfect. I reveled in the blessings of being your mom, and the sorrows of my past seemed to melt away. Being in the miiltary and being a mother fulfilled me in ways I will never understand.
Then reality sank in. Funny how the past has a way of catching up with me, how decisions made in haste come back to prick at my conscience. I had married on a whim, looking for someone who needed me, who would fill an aching hole in my heart. He did not and could not. After a year we both knew our marriage was a sham. We used each other and hurt each other and eventually I realized I had to get out and take you with me. So much damage done. I won’t try to make you understand why your dad and I divorced or why we married in the first place. It was not my fault nor was it his. We were friends who grew apart. Became bitter. Resentful. Hurting each other. And I left because I knew he never would. You deserved to be in an atmosphere of love and respect. I owed you that much; you and your sister were the best part of us. I pray you can forgive me for inflicting the hurt of divorce on you. I know you felt angry, sad, confused. No marriage is perfect because the people in it are imperfect. So many things I cannot tell you or explain to you because, well, it would not be right to visit that on you.
Right before your dad left, I deployed to Alaska so your dad could have alone time with you before he moved back to Cincinnati. Funny how God works. Meeting Alex on that deployment was so unplanned, so serendipitous, and so petrifying. We have had turbulent years , for sure. Life in our house was unpredictable, a. roller coaster of ups and downs. We have been through a lot, all of us. Through it all God has changed me and made me face a lot of things, things I never wanted to think about, some things I did not want to let go of. And now, 35 years after that fateful decision, I can honestly say I am healed—scars, yes, some still very tender to the touch. And there are times I lay too much on you, share too much about my hurts and healing, and cry tears in front of you, tears better shed alone. I forget sometimes you are my child, my daughter, and a mom yourself. I have burdened you with my hurts, my fears, my mistakes, looking for some absolution or validation. For that I ask your forgiveness. And to not judge me for my inadequacies. It has taken me a lifetime to learn how to be a good mother; I had no one to show me how. Which makes me marvel even more how you are so much more of a mom than I ever was or could ever be. I thank God for you every minute of every day. And every time I look into your eyes, those eyes I first looked into while you lay in my arms, my heart sings a song of thanks to God for letting me be your mother.
