To my firstborn…I’m sorry. I’m sorry because you will always get the worst version of me as a mother.
To my firstborn daughter, I would like to officially and on the record tell you I’m sorry.
I’m sorry because you will always get the worst version of me as a mom. I say that only half jokingly. For the first almost 3 years of your life, had someone asked me if I was the best mom in the world, I would have answered unequivocally and quite unabashedly that yes, yes of course I was.
I mean, had they not seen your perfect nursery, painted beautifully with all those clothes washed and folded so neatly? Or that, hello…I took all the requisite courses…prenatal, parenting, nursing.
And then when you came, I nursed you on demand, I let you sleep when you needed to, I only let people hold you after they had used hand sanitizer. And I held you non-stop, barely giving anyone else a chance to do so.
You were my world, wholly and completely. After a very traumatic entry into this world, nearly losing you, I had finally realized what love was.
And so, yes, there you have it, I WAS the best mom in the world.
Then…near your 3rd birthday, your baby sister joined our little family.
And from that day on, I can see that being born first is not really a blessing, my dear.
I hate to break it to you, but for every ounce of crazy you got from me, your sister has gotten a much calmer version of me. Whereas every move you made had me freaked out, with your sister I realized babies do some weird things and most of them don’t require a visit to the pediatrician.
Surprisingly, she has survived many nights without me watching her breathe or holding my hand on her chest and taking her pulse. Go figure…
When you quit being an only child, I said goodbye to any idea of us all being healthy at the same time! Germs are like a family member these days.
With you, we went through bottles of hand sanitizer and soap by the case load. With Hazel, she was going to pick up everything from you anyway, so why not let her lick the shopping cart occasionally?
And heck, once I’ve gone that far, the gym daycare, preschool, and library group seemed a no-brainer.
With you, my first born, I traveled with a baby potty so that whenever we were out in public, I could go running to our van if you had to go.
Hazel has gone potty in almost every imaginable public restroom and, good news for me, learned to go #2 on a real potty way before you ever did. Goodbye scraping poop out of a froggy potty in random parking lots.
With you, I lost my temper more easily and got easily frustrated when you wouldn’t listen. I mean, shouldn’t a 2 year old listen the first time, get dressed quickly and buckle in their car seat?
But, you see, this apology letter is not really even for these first 5 years of your life. I mean, it sort of is, but we all know that most of these “mistakes” I made won’t be remembered by you.
What I’m trying to tell you is this…you are ALWAYS going to be my “first.”
You will be the first one to go through those angsty tween years where you aren’t a little girl and you certainly aren’t ready to not be one.
You will be the first one to test the limits of my patience day in and day out.
You will be my guinea pig for rewards and punishments.
Training bras, mean girls, curfews, boys….you will be the first to go through each of these phases. So as with anything in life, there will be a learning curve.
I will learn how to do it better, but you won’t usually be the one to reap that reward.
But here’s what I can also tell you.
I won’t always get it right with you. In fact, more often than not, I will probably get it wrong the first time.
But please, even when you are mad at me, angry at what I wouldn’t let you do, annoyed with what I made you do…please know that in everything I do, in every choice I make, I am always, always, trying to get back to that place where I believe I am the best mom in the world.
And it’s no longer me trying to prove it to the world, but to myself.
MORE POSTS YOU MIGHT LIKE: