I've thought a great deal about what I want to teach you. I may not be classified as old and wise yet, but I feel that I do have some wisdom to impart to you. Of course I want to teach you to be a woman of faith, a lover, a giver and a caring friend. But, I also want to teach you to have some qualities I've never been the best at embodying.
One of those qualities would be gracefulness. Your mama is admittedly a klutz. At any given time I am covered in bruises and scrapes. It's not shameful to be a klutz, but I don't want you falling and hurting yourself all the time. I'd love for you to try ballet. Maybe you'll learn to love it and become a little ballerina. After all, your name is Clara, which is the lead character in The Nutcracker; it would only be fitting. And if you were a ballerina you may learn to flit around with an airiness and grace that I have never possessed. But, if you're a klutz like me I won't hold it against you; I know you get it honestly!
Another quality would be athleticism. Mama loves a nice long walk, yoga and even a little bit of cardio but I am not athlete. Klutziness gets in the way of any athletic prowess I may have possessed. I have always had a fear of being annihilated by a ball or puck or anything sharp or hard. Your daddy however, is very strong and athletic. He likes running, lifting, and of course his paintball. Maybe you'll inherit his skills.
But most of all my dear sweet, innocent daughter, I want you to be brave. I want you to hold on to your fearlessness for as long as possible. I want you to hold your sense of wonder and let nothing hold you back from trying new, exciting adventures. Do not be timid, do not be shy. Be brave. Embrace the unknown, embrace everything that is new and unfamiliar. It's an old corny adage but no one ever looks back on life and says they're grateful for sitting on the sidelines.
Of course there's benefits to being a spectator. As a curious baby you take everything in at all times. You are observing, watching, learning. Continue to learn, but don't be stagnant. Take action. Try something new everyday. Don't ever let fear get in your way. Fear is for the weak, and you, my dear daughter are strong.
I've let fear get in my way too many times. I've missed out on too many opportunities because of fear of the unknown and fear of failing. Here's one truth that you need to know. Trying and failing is okay. Never trying is not okay. How will you ever learn? How will you ever discover your greatness? I never tried a variety of activities or adventures because the fear I'd be "bad" at it or I'd "obviously" fail. But I will never know, because I never tried.
I will tell you the times that I which I was brave are the times I am the most proud of. At 15 I had major back surgery. 8 hours of surgery, had to have a chest tube, and now have a titanium rod and six screws in my spine. As a scrawny, scrappy little 15 year old it was terrifying. I couldn't even talk about it leading up to the surgery because I was so terrified. There was so much unknown, something could go wrong, I could be paralyzed, never walk again. But I had no choice but to be brave. And I was. I made it through, with flying colors. I learned I was so much stronger than I thought. So much braver than I could have ever imagined. And I was proud of myself in a way that I didn't even know was possible. I had overcome a fear, and I made it out on the other side. That feeling is unbeatable. I want you to have that feeling, and often. I want you to be proud of yourself. I know I'll be proud of you, I already am.
Another example of my braveness came from you. I gave birth to you without a single drug in my body. I didn't even have an IV! I labored for hours, pushed for almost 3 (Yikes!). There were times I was so exhausted I fell asleep on my hospital bed. But I dug deep. I kept thinking of you. I wanted you to be born in the most natural, beautiful way. The way that you were intended to come into this world. I knew it would help us with recovery, with breastfeeding, with bonding. So I labored on (literally) and I spoke to you. Asked you to be strong for me. Help me to be brave--and for you to safely make your way into this world. And when your daddy helped to deliver you (because he's a paramedic, he can do that!) and I held you and stared at your perfect little pout for the first time I was beyond happy. I was elated. I was brave. Daddy brags about this all the time. He tells me all the time how strong I was. To tell you the truth I had never felt more weak and vulnerable. But I was strong and steadfast. And I had the most wonderful gift for my bravery.
There has been several times where I haven't been brave. Where I've held my tongue as someone degrades my self worth, where I have chickened out from any exciting adventure (whether it be a roller coaster, a zip line, or a trip), where I've let the fear of the unknown paralyze my sense of adventure. Don't do this. You will be scared at times. You will be uncertain. But don't walk away. Be brave. Let yourself be open to the unknown. Let it take a hold of you, change you, shape you into something strong and mighty. You may be small right now but you are certainly mighty. You are amazing, and don't you ever forget it. It will be my duty to remind you of it everyday.
After all, you're the daughter of a firefighter, one of the bravest professions out there. You have bravery in you already, you just have to unleash it. You are already feisty and determined. I hope you never lose that. Even if it makes my life more difficult. I don't want you sitting on the sidelines. I want you in the game. And I'll be there cheering you on every step of the way.
Love,
Mom
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