Dear Willa darling,
One day, I hope, you will become a mother yourself. And this I can tell you now, while I still have the perspective. The first days, the first weeks, even the first months can be among the darkest you’ve ever known.
Not for lack of loving you, no, mine weren’t dark for that at all. They were dark for the deepest struggle, the most cataclysmic shift, the unbridled and unwilling release of the tight control I had on my old life.
For me, even as you my little miracle, lit up my heart in tiny ways every day, I found myself in a strange fog of my own reality. At work, at social functions, even sometimes with your daddy, my best friend and soul mate, I felt like a shell of myself, an empty version of me while the real me stood outside on the sidewalk drifting away. It was the hormones, the lack of sleep, the sheer confusion over how on earth you could be mine forever.
Day by day the incredible light that you, from the day you were born, cast in the corners of my deeply dark heart grew brighter. The fog around my life broke, and the rays of glory shone in. Slowly, the sunshine returned. I can’t tell you exactly when or what happened to make it so, but sure enough happiness alighted again.
And then a magnificent thing began to happen. That light began to burst wide open. My life with you and your daddy brightened into a spectacular thing filled with insurmountable joy and surprises and miracles.
Now I clamor for time with you, with him, with us as a family. I revel in your smiles and laughter and excitement. My heart bursts with pride over your milestones and achievements, however small.
I survived the most trying and humbling period of my life and emerged on the other side a terrifically more whole version of myself than I had ever dreamed possible.
Alas, I arrived at motherhood.
And I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt that it has been the most extraordinary journey of my life. I am blessed to have you.
I love you.
Momma
