A Letter to my daughter, from one of her Mothers.
To my daughter,
I always wanted a daughter. I dreamed you into existence.
I remember the day you were conceived. Seeing your tiny body form and grow fingers and toes on ultrasounds. Talking to you. Feeling you move. I couldn’t wait to meet you.
When you were born I held you tight, overwhelmed by my feelings for you. I fell in love with you. I watched you take your first breath, took you to your first hearing test, gave you your first bath.
When you smiled at me for the first time, I cried. When you giggled, I giggled. I held you getting your needles and nursed you when you were sick. I stared at your face for hours, amazed at how perfect you were.
Then you started rolling over, sitting up and crawling. I’ve had sleepless nights with your first tooth coming through, mornings spent making your first meals and hours spent trying to get you to say your first word.
You started to walk and talk and you became a little person. Right there before my eyes. So quickly.
Before I knew it, your first birthday had come and gone and then your first day of school. You were busting with excitement and fear. So was I. You were growing up too fast. Please slow down. I’m not ready.
Your first tooth came out at school and we left money under your pillow for the tooth fairy. You made me believe in magic again.
I remember the day we walked into that cafe and the manager said to us: “Doesn’t she look just like you.” Then he looked at your younger brother and said: “You don’t look as much like your mummy as your sister does.” I remember feeling very proud.
You quickly responded in the most innocent way. “Which mummy? I have two?”
My daughter, you are a delight.
The funny thing is, you do look a lot like me. But not because we share the same DNA. Your other mummy gave birth to you. But you already know that.
You may not have been born out of my body, but you are my daughter in every sense of the word. You make faces like me, say things I say, and unfortunately bite your nails like me. You say to me: “I love you more than anything, Mummy”, and I love you to the moon and back.
Your brother and you share the same donor. We all look alike. We all have the same last name. But what actually makes us a family is the love we have for each other. The moments we share. The memories we create.
The fact is, I love you more than anything.
Your friends are starting to ask you which mummy’s tummy you were in. You are not bothered by these questions. These are innocent questions from children.
You have not yet come across any hatred, bigotry, or homophobia and I hope every day you never do.
The world can be beautiful and magical. It can also be evil and cruel. I wish that I could protect you from anything that may ever hurt you. But I can’t. The only thing I can do is help people understand that our family is no different from anyone else’s. We are all the same.
But if someone ever questions your family, our family, you stand tall and be proud of who you are and where you came from.
Because you came from love. A love that reaches to the moon and back.