Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Not My Mother's Daughter

Today I was watching Megan, she was sitting right next to me, and I started to cry. I do this often. I hate it. It is not because she is growing up to fast. Cause she is. It is not about how her joy radiates off, like a ray. Because it does. It is not because of her endless imagination that never ceases to amaze me. Because it never ceases.

No, these tears were of the selfish kind. These tears have been rattling me from the moment she was resting in my belly-the day I found out she was a she and she was mine.

I sat in the doctor's office eight months pregnant asking if I was crazy for worrying that I won't attach to the lil' girl swimming in me. That I won't know how to love her like she needed to be loved. Listening as the doctor tried to guide my fear. Reassuring me that he would make a point, to make sure we were attaching.

Three years later I can't shake it. This overwhelming feeling that I will screw it all up. That I don't know how to be mother to a girl, a girl who is so amazing.

I can't bear the idea of losing her like my own mother lost me. It is too much.

Now I can hold Megan. I can kiss her and be there.

I love her to the ends of the earth and back. and then back again.

Is that enough?

I have been told I am different then my mother. I don't feel it.

How could she not love me like I love my daughter?

How could she not have hugged me and kissed me like I hug and kiss my daughter?

I don't remember. I knew and still know she loves me. But the truth is sometimes love is not enough.

Love has different values and needs. What love is good for one is not good enough for another.

If that makes sense? How could my mother's love not have been enough for me? Why do I feel this overwhelming need for more from her? Am I asking too much? Is my need, for that love, just mine, something I shouldn't expect?

It is our history. Not Megan and mine's. It is so hard sometimes to separate the two. The only time we repeat history is if we allow it. If we don't make a conscious effort to change what went wrong. Knowing that if I let go of all those feelings of not being good enough I might be a better person. A better mother for her.


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