Before I get to the main topic, I wanted to mention that today marks 15 years since your daddy and I began our friendship. While we had been talking a little on the computer for a couple of months at that point, February 22, 1997 was the day I decided to take a risk and call your daddy on the phone for the first time. I remember he was about to hop in the shower when I called, but instead we ended up talking for a few hours. That sparked many, many months of nightly telephone conversations before we finally met in person on August 8th (oh, how I had to pester your daddy for months about meeting me in person, because he was too shy/nervous). And it was only a few months after that that we began dating. All of those little moments that eventually led us to you.
Today was a particularly beautiful day, weather-wise, with the temperature in San Francisco reaching a high of about 70 degrees. It's such a welcome change from all of the super cold weather (although pretty dry) weather we've been getting the last few months. So, I decided to take a little walk and grab a sandwich, and enjoy it under the sun.
As I was sitting in Justin Herman Plaza, admiring the view of the Ferry Building across the way, my mind wandered to thoughts of what it might be like to be your mother. I've been thinking about this a lot, actually, over the last couple of days since we learned you are a girl.
Lots of things have come to mind, including my own relationships with my mother and father, and how I hope your relationships with me and your daddy might be the same and how they might be different and hopefully better. I think about all of the mother-daughter bonding experiences my mom and I shared when I was a little girl. For instance, my involvement in the Girl Scouts starting in the second grade. I fondly remember my mom attending camping weekends with me and the rest of the troop, and the year she and I teamed up to do a million booth sales to ultimately sell over 1000 boxes of Girl Scout cookies. I also think about how we shared a secret ritual of enjoying ice cream sundaes for dinner on one night, whenever my dad and brothers would go away camping for the weekend. Or the time she took me to the mall to buy an expensive (I think it was like $13 -- quite the generous splurge!) tube of lipstick from one of the cosmetic counters in Macy's just prior to my Senior Prom, and how special and beautiful I felt wearing that lipstick. Or the times she taught me to sew clothes for my Barbie dolls, and later outfits for myself. Or the time we spent redecorating the back bedroom of her house, with my Great Grandparent's antique furniture set, and painting the walls a pretty lavender color together. Those are the kinds of experiences I hope can be the foundation for many special experiences that you and I can share together one day.
I'm also consumed by my own hopes and dreams for the kind of woman you'll become. Much of this is influenced by my own journey of growth, both throughout my life and especially in the last few years. I've experienced a number of things in my 31 years (both way back in my childhood, and others more recently) that have left scars, and altered who I am. But, in the last few years I've embarked on a very powerful journey of confronting these things and learning and growing from them. I've always seen myself as a "survivor", and not one to succumb to being a victim. But as I've explored everything I have endured up until now, I've really learned that surviving isn't enough -- you also have to find a way to thrive despite it all. As much as I'd love to protect you from all the pain and bad fortune in the world, I know that I cannot. And one of my deepest hopes for you is that I'll be able to help you grow into a woman who is strong, confident, assertive, capable, compassionate, and intelligent, who will be able to handle the sorrows of the world with grace, dignity and wisdom. I hope that I can teach you some of the things I've had to learn the hard way, so that it frees you to learn even deeper and more valuable lessons than I've yet to experience.
In the end, I just want you to be better than I am or ever will be. In many ways, I feel like that's what my mom tried to do for me. And I see it as my responsibility and duty to do my best to provide the same for you.
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