Dear readers, today I am thrilled to introduce you to a wonderful idea that my friend, Amy Lockheart came up with. It is a series of blog posts called ‘Letters to Our Daughters‘ written by 10 women, mothers, friends and photographers (including me).
I feel incredibly honoured to be included with these talented ladies. After you read my letter to my 6 year old daughter below, head on over and read Julia Stotlar’s letter to her daughter. And once you read hers, you will be linked to another beautiful letter, and from there to another till the circle of letters is completed. I cannot wait to read them and see all the beautiful photographs. From Minneapolis to Seattle, Abu Dhabi to Australia, we might all be at different stages in our journeys as mothers but at the end of the day, what a mother feels for her child is universal.
For many of you, this will be your first visit to my blog. Welcome and thank you for being here.
My sweet baby girl,
On Friday I leave for a girls weekend with my high school friends. Maybe I told you about this too many days in advance because now you are very anxious and worried. You are desperately sad and say you are going to miss me terribly. You have marked the calendar to know exactly when I will return. Your Daddy has fun plans for you this weekend and I know you won’t really have time to think about me, except at bedtime. You wonder who will gather you up in their arms if you get a booboo and who will snuggle and sing to you at night. You say that Daddy doesn’t know ‘Moon River‘ or ‘Edelweiss’ (Hedelweiss as you call it). No baby, he doesn’t but he does know how to cuddle you and wipe away your tears.
Sometimes I think people don’t understand people like us baby girl. In the same way that they brush away a child’s fears (‘don’t be silly!‘), they brush away a grown-ups fears too. I know all about missing, because I still miss you every single day when you go to school. I give myself five minutes to be sad and then get up and face the day and get busy with living life. Once in a while I allow myself a good cry.
I worry about not being able to come back home. Airplanes never gave me anxiety before you two came along. But I wouldn’t be a very good teacher if I told you to face your fears, but did not do the same for mine. So I am facing my fears, I am promising myself to have a very good time with my friends, giving myself five minutes a day to desperately miss you, your sister and Daddy and spending the rest of time just living this beautiful life. I want you to do the same and before you know it, I will be back to tuck you into bed at night.
Winnie the Pooh said it best : “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”.
PS: Your big sister suggested that she should take a photo of you with me.. something for you to have in case you are missing me too much while I am gone. You don’t really care if I am in my pajamas and that my hair is unbrushed.. so I don’t think I should care either.