When I was pregnant with you Georgia Grace, I fell madly in love with wildflowers. I even wanted it to be your middle name, but the nickname GG seemed much better than GW.
It was August and I was hot and very pregnant, I would walk around the neighborhood and pick blackberries. Everything slowed down in that time, I noticed more beauty in the world. It was like my own little bubble, just you in my belly, the beautiful foxgloves and poppies and the birds chirping around. My memory of all this has a lens of rose colored glasses. Like I was a disney princess, skipping along with the bunnies, with flowers blooming and bowing as I dance by…But it was magical, and the sight of a cluster of daisies or sweet peas on the side of the road gave me such immense pleasure, it still does. I am the crazy lady pulled over on the highway picking a bouquet of weeds.
I think if I hadn’t been chosen to be your mother, I never would have found my way. I have always felt like Alice, lost in Wonderland. I was looking for all the things that everyone else had; a family, a house, a perfectly crafted life and home that I had cultivated. It turns out I was a little too messy, a little too wild for “all that” to work out. It hasn’t been easy to find my way back to the wildflowers, but my daughter, you let something bloom inside me and I will always be drawn to it now. You showed your mamma herself. The summer I fell in love with wildflowers was the summer you were born. You were so wide awake, and so alive already. Nothing will ever stop you from being you baby. You came into this world knowing…
About Mothering A Wild Daughter
It is a hard thing to stay wild in this world. It’s a hard thing to raise your daughter and not dim her light. I catch myself all the time, telling her to be quieter, nicer, and more agreeable. Of course I can’t let her run around acting like a brat, screaming and demanding without so much as a please or thank you. It’s not that, it’s all the rest. It’s hard enough to un train yourself and stand in your own wildness everyday, but to take on a whole person and not fuck it up. It is incredibly daunting and HARD. I’m not going to sugar coat it, it’s HARD. I don’t want to bury the most beautiful thing about my daughter and mold and change and critique everything she does until that wide-eyed knowing has disappeared and it’s all my fault. I have to stop thinking that way. I have to trust that I know and I’m not perfect, I’m messy and that’s okay.
I just have to slow down and go back to that summer. It’s just me and GG and the wildflowers. They whisper all the things I already know, they remind me.
For The Love of Wildflowers will be my compass, my house, my family, and my truth. Whatever I need is held in their petals, safe and waiting for me to come looking.