On Trusting Yourself: 3 Months

Dear London June, 

   Your rosy cheek is pressed against my chest as I wear you in our Solly wrap. You love to be close and I try to soak up every second because I know that too soon the day will come when your head won’t want to find my chest anymore. These days are fleeting. I breathe them in, let them saturate every part of me.

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 3 months has swirled by and you are no longer my newborn but my baby. The outfits that you once drowned in are now nicely filled out and almost bursting at the seams. I already miss your tiny features but your blooming personality replaces any sadness that comes with your growing up. There are times, in the midst of your giggle or sky wide smile that I capture a tiny glimpse of the women you might be. It brings me to earth every time and reminds me that I’m raising a person who will one day influence her community. I question over and over again if I’m doing it right. Most days, I think I am. There are days though, that I’m swimming in doubt. On those days, I cling to your joy and your Daddy. There’s always hope there and I drink it up.

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London, if you ever find yourself becoming a mother I hope you will share your doubts and your hope with me. As a mother, you will be faced with a myriad of decisions every single day. You will be faced with your own doubt but also the questioning and doubt of others. Clear your head and environment of any extra noise and listen to the very center of your heart. It knows best, always. Do not play into fear or quick to jump into whatever the mainstream is preaching to you. Go within, and you will find your truth there. If you can’t talk to me about it, find someone that your heart can speak to without fear of judgment. Trust yourself. I write this for you, but I also write this for me. As I feel your breath against my collar bone, my prayer is that one day, this letter will find you when you really need it.  

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When I labored with you, there were times I didn’t trust myself. The pain of each contraction was stronger each time and I feared that they were stronger than me. There were times I screamed in desperation for drugs to take the pain away. “Take this cup from me, O God!”  My doula whispered the truth that I already knew. My body was made for this. I was made for this. Even in my darkest doubt, I could face this mountain and overcome it. It was the hardest climb of my life. I wanted to give up. But I couldn’t because in my very core I believed that I was made to do this. I wanted to feel what it meant to give birth. With the tallest mountain, with the hardest work came by biggest joy. You.  

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And now, that joy triples every day and sweeps over those hours of labor and pain. You smile all day, every day. You cry when you are hungry or sleepy or when your tummy is upset. You watch the leaves with a curious eye as the sun shines upon their dance. Your ears perk up when you hear your Daddy’s voice. You reach for something to touch, to feel its’ texture, to understand it a bit better. You smile when the wind hits your face. You are learning what it means to be London June and I love being an active spectator of it. 

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When you are tired, lonely and joy eludes you look to the simple things that bring you joy. Enjoy the breeze run through your hair, take a moment to really value and appreciate its’ goodness. Listen for your Daddy’s voice when you are hurt and needing to hear his deep love for you. When you need rest, find a soft blanket and wrap it around you. Feel the warmth it provides and reflect how it mirrors God’s peace. And when you simply need comfort, come and lay your head on my chest. You may think you will be too old for that, but you won’t. 

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You are still our biggest adventure, 

Mom xo 

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