I’ll be honest when I admit that I was terrified to have a daughter. As a woman who LOVES female company, and adores my girlfriends, it wasn’t at all the idea of having another little lady around– that I was beyond excited for. It was the idea of the responsibility of teaching a little girl about this harsh world that felt like the tallest of orders.  I also knew how fraught the Mother/Daughter relationship can be: two sides of the same coin. Inherently “of” each other, and yet so different. Our daughters are as close as we get to mirrors in this life: they teach us everything about what we have to learn, and where our hang-ups and traumas are within ourselves. They are both the challenge and the remedy.

When Marlowe was born, she was immediately my Best Friend. All the fears I had of being to able to navigate “Girl Mom” terrain disappeared into a ferocity I felt to make the world right for her, and protect her at all costs. She and I were often alone, just the two of us, as Kyle was commuting to Connecticut from Los Angeles for the first two years of Marlowe’s life. I spent hours with her daily just chatting in a one-sided conversation. Even before she could speak, I would look at her, and we would share a laugh, or communicate without words.  She was endlessly entertaining to me. I found myself relying on her to keep me grounded in my purpose, and to find my center through so many ups and downs. Any drive I had at that time came purely from the realization that I was showing my daughter what a woman was, and that I should probably act like it. Truthfully, I was growing up with her, and learning so much about myself that I hadn’t known to search for before becoming a Mom.

I don’t think I had even realized how deeply a parent is forced to look within themselves when they decide to have a child. Very few of my friends had children at that time, and as the oldest sibling, I had no nieces or nephews. The whole experience was the Wild West for me, and I felt overwhelmed often by how non-binary parenthood can be: the black and white of life before children is made so grey by the realization that there is no ultimate “right” or “wrong” way to raise another human. Inevitably, I made many mistakes, and of course I cared so much about making absolutely none. It was such an era of growth for me, as I both matured exponentially, and also learned to forgive myself and let the little things go.

This summer, my best friend turned 10. It was a shock and something that I hadn’t expected to drum up so many emotions for me. After a decade of this Mother/Daughter relationship, where had we ended up? Was I doing right by her, and teaching her all of the things I ruminated on late at night when she was just a baby? What had I managed to show her, when I had spent a lot of her childhood thus far in that special brand of “early years” family chaos, brain fog, and survival? All of a sudden, my Baby Girl wasn’t a baby anymore, and neither was I. Perhaps dramatically (and irrationally), I found myself searching for signs that I had done right by my beautiful daughter.

The truth of the matter is, I feel like I struck the daughter Lottery. As she gets older, even more of her innate character seems to emerge and continue to develop. At a time when so many daughters are beginning to pull away from their mothers, I find my own daughter getting even more gentle and generous with me. As it turns out, Marlowe is so much better than me in so many ways: so empathic, so funny, so grounded and maternal, and so unconditionally loving. She sees right through people, seeks the truth always, and loves her family like nobody else. She still is always in on the joke. Ironically, it seems that for all of my focus on raising and protecting her, the most remarkable parts of her character are things she emerged with completely on her own. And yet, as she has aged, the task of mothering her has gotten more complex.

Marlowe and I are very different. We have a few overlapping strengths, but generally speaking we are Apples and Oranges.  At first, that was overwhelming, because I didn’t feel like I knew how to parent her empathetically. How do you know what your child is going through when your brains work completely differently? Aside from both running inherently anxious (I’ve written lots about that…it’s also our superpower…) there is so much about how we are wired that makes us unable to understand each other at times.  My approach to things can be classically Pisces, while hers is decidedly Leo. We frustrate each other, and love each other, harder than with anybody else. PSA to the ladies out there with daughters: DOES THIS SOUND FAMILIAR?!

It’s sad and overwhelming when I remember that days of dissonance are ahead. She will inevitably find me painfully annoying for a period of time– a fact that I remind her of often. She denies it now, but I tell her that even when she hates me occasionally in the future, I will still love her desperately through it.  If she pulls away, I’ll always be waiting there, hoping for her return. When I tell her she will be so excited to spread her wings one day, and leave our home for new adventures, she balks at the thought. I tell her that just like my body was her home for 9 months, she will always have a place here. And I truly hope that I still feel as much like Home to her when she’s an adult as I know I do now. Lately, I’ve been realizing that focusing on our common denominators really pulls us together, and continues to bond us in new ways.

Right now, I’m focusing on Quality Time. I think a close bond is built mostly on really knowing one another. I try to share more of myself: my vulnerabilities and failures, my goals and dreams. I try to listen as intently to the small stuff she tells me, as I do to the bigger things. I want her to feel known. It’s really not that much longer that she’ll be spending the majority of her time with us, instead of with her peers. I know my timeframe for “parenting” in a way that she’ll absorb is closing in on us swiftly.  It’s overwhelming when I think about that too deeply.  When I feel like I’m going to spiral from how desperately I love her and how completely I want her to be happy, I try to focus on the things I know about my daughter today: She is fierce, she is a sweetheart, she is discerning, she is smart, she is hilarious, and she doesn’t suffer fools. Ultimately, that’s all I need to know. And that comes from a place so deep within her that I know she was born with it.  I can’t wait to see how much she continues to teach me.

Moms of daughters in that “tween” age range (or any age range!) I’d love to hear how your Mother/Daughter relationships are evolving!

Photographs by Julia Dags | Copyright © 2024 Happily Eva After, Inc. All Rights Reserved.

Shop the post…