Raising Daughters

I have three daughters. Three. DAUGHTERS. And here is what I've learned...

At 10 years old, she brightens every room she enters. You look at her and immediately glow. Everything she does is precious. She loves you. She tells you she loves you. She needs you and wants you around. There are even occasions when she tells you how wonderful you are and how lucky she is to have you as her momma. Life is great. 

At 16 years old, reality has set in. You still love her, but you aren't allowed to show it....unless it's through gifts. Everything you do is annoying. She hates you seemingly for just breathing in her presence. You are the most embarrassing person on the planet and nothing could be worse than being compared to you. You wonder what evil you have done in your life to deserve this fresh hell. 

At 20 years old, she lets you love her again. She even admits to loving you back. Hugs are back on the table. But the looming future is there to steal her away. She is leaving to start her own life. You wonder where you will fit in and wonder where that 10-year-old little girl went. And how she disappeared so quickly. You pull out pictures of her childhood and cry over them while she talks of nothing but college graduation, her first "big girl job," and that boy who makes her start picturing herself all dressed in white. 

Like I said, I have three daughters. I have one at each of these stages as I type. I need therapy. 

Because now that I have gotten to stage 3 with the oldest, I can look ahead and know that the 10-year-old will eventually hate me and then will eventually leave me. It makes this stage with her all the more joyous and all the more depressing. I know that my 16-year-old will eventually be able to stand me again, but she will leave as well. That fact at least makes this phase a little bearable. Because she may hate me, but she's here. I can look over at her, grimace on her face, brow furrowed, and know she's here. And it's stage 1 and 2 that make it even harder to watch my 20-year old go through phase 3. Because there was a time that she thought I was wonderful and that I was all she needed. She, too, lit up a room and brought a glow to my face. She still does. 

What gets me through this stage 3 is the hope that she will one day have daughters. And those sweet, precious children will take her through these stages as well, and she will come to me, knowing I've been there. I watched her go from a precious ball of joy to an eye-rolling demon and back again. And, possibly with a little therapy, I survived.