The moment I saw Alessandra- just her little hand reaching to the sky while the doctor was working on her - I immediately felt a thousand feelings and thought a thousand thoughts about her. I know I'm supposed to love her. I know it's my responsibility to take care of her. My feelings go beyond that. I want to take care of her. I want to protect her. I want for her to always know she's loved. She's the sun in my sky.
Being a parent pushes you past your comfort zone. Being a parent makes you grow. It makes you humble. It makes you walk around the world feeling so vulnerable because the thing that matters most to you isn't simple. She's not a machine - she's not a formula - she's not predictable. She's a human being and bring all the complexities that come with it.
I do my best for her. I've always thought that if a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing well and Alessandra has brought that to a whole new level. So many people offer me advice. Some of the people that offer me advice have made a mess of their own lives and I have a hard time taking them seriously. But I even have trouble accepting advice from the people who I love, respect, and admire the most. I realize though that it's not their advice that bothers me. It's not that I don't think they have valuable information to share. It's just that I struggle with feeling like people don't realize how much I care. I love her. I always want to do what is best for her. I want to give her the best life possible. I want to equip her for the future as much as possible. I want to do not just what is easy for me or what is comfortable for her - I will set those things aside if doing something difficult for me or challenging for her helps her be her best. My real struggle isn't about accepting people's advice, it's with feeling criticized. I'm struggling with learning the appropriate way to take people's advice.
When I step back and think about it, the most likely reason that people are giving me advice is that they genuinely want to help. They realize they have information that I don't have. They want to ensure that Alessandra gets whats best for her. They want to offer me something that is helpful.
My pride gets in the way of seeing that when I am in the moment. I feel criticized. I feel like someone is giving me advice because they don't think I bothered to figure something out for myself. I feel like someone is accusing me of not caring about her enough - about not loving her enough. That's whats hard for me to take.
I surround myself with people that I love and respect. I invite them to be in my daughter's life because I know they are a positive force in my own life and that Alessandra will be better off for knowing them. I just want people to see the inverse. I love her. I am committed to her well-being. I listen to everyone's advice - I do my own research - I listen to my own intuition - I pay attention to how Alessandra responds to what I do. I want nothing but the best for her. I love her. I love her more than I've ever loved anyone or anything.
I just need to wrap my head around the fact that people can offer advice without criticizing me as a parent and without thinking that I don't love her. They just have something to offer that is helpful. It's not about me. It's about her. It's about doing what is best for her.
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