My biggest fear is that I will fail as a mother. That one day she will look back on her life and think “she should have done better for me.” I’m terrified that the efforts I make, the love I give, the words I share, wont’ be sufficient enough to fill her heart. I’m terrified that I, alone, am not enough.
But then the sweetest thing happens, and she runs her finger down the bridge of my nose when I’m tired or sad, just like I do for her. Or I look over to find her rocking her dolls to sleep saying the same words I make sure to tell her each night. And for that moment I’m reassured that maybe the epic failure that I’m sure is pending, wont come. That maybe, just maybe, I’m doing alright by her.