As I sit here contemplating, I first must remind myself to breathe-in and out. In and out. One week.
As I sit here trying to put together the words of what I feel about Britt getting married, I realize there will never be any perfect words for this. We’ve waited for over a year and through a pandemic and here we are.
We’re up to our eyeballs in wedding decor and all the things to make this day and I still can’t believe it’s real. I still can’t believe the baby I had at almost twenty is about to walk down the aisle and into adulthood with another person. To figure out bills and work and kid’s schedules and how to remain sane through it all.
I remember when I first held her, thinking there was no way they would let me take her home. I had babysat plenty of times, but actually letting me take this living, being home and just hope that it all comes together, was far more than I could fathom. I was terrified.
Britt and I raised each other. She forced me to figure it out really fast. With all the other emotions I could fake my way through in life, she wasn’t one of them. She had my heart wrapped so tightly, it absolutely terrified me.
I worked my way through parenthood the way most people do-on a wish and a prayer and vowed to her one thing-I would always be honest. I knew, no matter what-I would always tell her the hard things.
There were far too many secrets in my family growing up and it never ended up protecting us from anything. I forged ahead with that in my heart and over the years, it proved harder than I thought.
There were SO many nights with her in my room, having gut-wrenching conversations about boys and friendships and the reality of why things don’t work sometimes. There were also difficult conversations about overly-tweezed brows when asked my opinion, that sometimes didn’t go over well. I learned that truth can also mean reserving your judgement when necessary.
There were also mounds of truth directed back at me. Like when I didn’t follow through on something I had promised, or when I pushed too much at a time I didn’t need to. She checked me, consistently, and I was better for it.
The trust flowed freely between us. We never let the other off the hook. It was hard. It was necessary and it was how we grew the love we have. It is the basis of our relationship today.
Britt threw me into adulthood before I was ready, but she 100% healed my soul. I was a child stuck in a woman’s body, still healing from my dad. The hole in my soul felt unbearable and she came along-this tiny human-and patched all the spaces that were so empty.
It’s no coincidence she became a nurse. She learned to heal before she was even born. Even though she’s already grown up, this point in her life feels complete, somehow.
Her worth as a woman isn’t because she’s getting married, but because she’s always known who she was, well before this time. Her ability to come home and fill our house with laughter and song and dance is exactly how she’s always been and it’s what I know she’ll always be.
My wish for her as she enters this new space and experience in her life is to never forget that she was and always will be, Brittany. She’ll become a mom. A wife. She’s a nurse. But she’s always Brittany. I never want her to lose the self she created, long before anyone else came to be.
I want her to fight for herself, the way she will her kids. I want her to chase her dreams, the way she’ll encourage theirs. I want her to fight for her space in her own world because it will always matter as much as her husband’s or her kids.
Dragging out all the pictures this week and seeing the elaborate costumes she devised and the over-the-top productions she once orchestrated-I hope she doesn’t lose that sense of wonderment and desire to discover herself as she grows with her life. I want to wrap my arms around her, tight and whisper, “you are going to learn so much more about you and I can’t wait to see it all”.
The best part of raising kids is this. Seeing the hard stuff you went through together, all make sense, is what it’s about. It’s the golden prize of parenting.
Put the work in. Do the hard things. It’s so damn worth it…
sharkmomma 