A Letter to Princess Milkface on Her 7th Birthday

Dear Princess Milkface,

The night before your 7th birthday party, you cried inconsolably because you were afraid you wouldn’t be enough. As we sat on your bed and snuggled together, I listened to you share your fear that your friends would be disappointed at your party. That they wouldn’t have enough fun or enough time with you.

And as I listened to your fears, you broke my heart.

My dear girl, I have so much love for all three of my kids, but my relationship with you is different. Because you’re my only biological child, you are the one that holds up a mirror that just crushes me. I watch you in these moments, and I see myself. I know your fears all too well because I struggle with them too. I don’t have the same benefit of perspective with you that I have with Captain Starburst and Lady M. When I’m parenting you and loving you through your challenges, I often feel like I’m parenting myself.

When I see you struggling, I struggle too, but for different reasons. I fight to not make these moments about me. I want to focus on beating myself up for passing these traits onto you. I hate seeing you fight my battles through no fault of your own…simply because of my crappy contributions to your gene pool.

But when I’m at my best, I push all of that aside and I just show up. Feeling severely lacking for advice but highly empathetic. I understand your fears all too well, Princess Milkface. I worry about whether I am enough more days than not.

Am I investing enough in our relationship now to build a strong bond that will withstand your teenage years? Do you really know that you can talk to me about anything?

Am I adult enough and warm enough to balance the important job of building a close bond with Lady M, while also being her mom before I am her friend? Or, will I over-focus on respect and discipline and lose that opportunity?

Am I selfless enough to be a soft place to land for Captain Starburst when he needs one in the midst of all of his comings and goings and lessons he will face as he transitions into adulthood? Or, will I be too quick to share my opinion to even give him a chance to open up?‘

On the 7th anniversary of your dramatic arrival to this world, I’m going to share a story to help us both remember that We. Are. Enough.

You were born 8 weeks early after we spent 5 weeks on bed-rest, the last 2 of which were in the hospital. When I started hemorrhaging the morning of May 23, 2012, the nurse told me you would be born that day. Less than an hour later she was right….you arrived by way of emergency Cesarean section. I was later told that we ranked in the top 3 most terrifying deliveries of all time for our doctor. I also learned that if we were not already in the hospital, we most likely would not have survived.

Your dad said the operating room looked like a crime scene when they opened the doors to rush you to the NICU. I didn’t even get to see you for about 12 hours because it took that long to get both of us stable. When I got there, you were connected to all kinds of tubes and wires. You grabbed my finger when I put my hand in the incubator that night, and I was awestruck and overwhelmed.

The next day, my doctor told me I needed to start walking around to recover from my c-section, so I got up and pushed my wheelchair to the NICU to visit you. The NICU nurse explained the idea of kangaroo care to me, and I got to hold you against my skin for the very first time.

This is my all-time favorite picture of the two of us together. Honestly, we both look pretty rough! You have a piece of gauze taped to your head from when an IV infiltrated your skin and lipids burned your scalp (you still have that scar today…it always reminds me of what a warrior you are). I have scraggly hair and the IV in my hand that I had for weeks at that point (there was even a matching one on the other side!). Battle scars and all, we showed up, did the best we could, and trusted Jesus for the grace we needed to fill the gap between our capabilities and what our circumstances required. And that day…the close bond that started when you grew inside me transitioned to a new bond between mom and daughter.

And in those tough times, Jesus is always there. He was there with Daniel in the lions’ den, and with Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the fire. Moses knew he wasn’t enough to accomplish God’s calling when he said, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” (Exodus 3:11)

Moses’s concerns were real. He couldn’t even speak well, and God wanted him to tell the Pharaoh over all of Egypt to set the Israelites free! Yet God simply replied, “I will be with you.” (Exodus 3:12)

And God was with him. And he was again and again…throughout the Bible and even in our lives today.

Princess Milkface, pay attention to this part. On our own, we will never be enough. This world is tough, and we will get beat up sometimes. Sometimes the damage is visible, like in our picture, but sometimes the pain is on the inside. That pain is real, and it can make us question whether we are enough. But here’s the very best news: we have God’s grace to help us be enough for the path he has called us to walk. We just have to follow him and ask for his help.

And sweet girl…you and I will always have our bond of love as well. It started with this photo of two beat-up girls who were just happy to finally be together, and it will continue through eternity.

Love,

Mom