Happy Birthday, Charlee Ann: Mom, You Were Right

Today, my baby girl turns one. One year ago, I became a mom!

I’ve spent the last year learning how to be a mother while desperately wishing I still had my own, and I am proud of myself.

After my mom’s passing, this chapter of my life was something I so frequently questioned and worried about. But I am proud that I have raised my daughter for an entire year without my mom. Without my mom to help me. Without my mom to tell me I’m doing a good job. Without my mom to call when I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. Without my mom to ask, “is this normal?” Without my mom to babysit so I could have a break. Without my mom to come over and hold the baby while I showered, slept, ate, or simply had five minutes where I didn’t have to be needed by someone. Without my mom to care for me when my arms were tired from carrying her.

I have done all of it without her. But I wish I didn’t have to. I wish I didn’t have to learn how strong I am because she wasn’t here.

There have been so many moments this year when I have instinctively wanted to reach for my phone and call my mom. Moments when Charlee did something new, something funny, something confusing, something scary. Moments when I needed advice. Moments when I just wanted someone to tell me I was doing okay.

My mom never got to meet Charlee. She never got to hold her. She never got to hear her laugh. She never got to watch her crawl, pull herself up, take her first steps, or start walking around like she owns the place. She never got to discover Charlee’s little personality.

And I never got to watch my mom become a grandmother to Charlee. It hurts so much because I know exactly how much my mom would have loved her. I know she would have spoiled her. I know she would have wanted to be there for every milestone. And I know she would have told me that I was doing a good job.

There is something else I understand now that I didn’t understand before… My mom always used to tell me, “I love you more,” and I would say “no way, José!” And I never really understood what she meant because I loved her so much. I couldn’t imagine loving someone more than that.

She used to tell me that one day, when I became a mom, I would understand.

Mom, I understand now. I understand exactly what you meant. I understand what it feels like to look at another person and realize that your heart somehow exists outside of your body. I understand the kind of love that makes you worry about them even when they are sleeping peacefully beside you. I understand the overwhelming feeling of wanting to protect someone from every bad thing in the world. I understand why you worried. I understand why you always wanted to help. I understand you in ways I never could before. And somehow, becoming a mother hasn’t just made me love my daughter more than I knew was possible, it has made me love you more, too.

This first year has been beautiful. It has been exhausting. It has been overwhelming. It has been full of laughter and tears and sleepless nights and tiny milestones and moments I wish I could freeze forever.

And it has been filled with grief. Because every beautiful moment has come with the knowledge that there is one person I desperately wish could have been here to see it.

But I did it!

Mom, I wish you could see me now. I wish you could see the little girl you raised become a mother herself. I wish you could see the little girl I am raising. I wish you could watch us together. I wish I could call you and tell you everything.

And somehow, through all of the grief, I am so incredibly proud of the mother I’ve become. I just wish you were here to tell me that you’re proud of me, too. 

Happy birthday Charlee Ann, and I miss you so so much, Mom.