My children bring me an overwhelming amount of joy (read: really, really overwhelming, make-you-Google-crazy-shit overwhelming, make-you-question-your-sanity  and lock your keys in your car overwhelming). The sun rose and set on Emerson’s towhead. But for as long as I can remember wanting babies (read: from birth, basically), I never wanted a daughter. Until I fell in love with Joel.

I was a daddy’s girl. My parents divorced when I was eight and I chose to stay with my dad. I only saw my mother a couple times a year. I always told myself I had no real idea how mothers navigate grade school mean girls, middle school insecurity, and high school prom drama. Fathers (or mine, anyway) tend to get away with ignoring such challenges while still being championed. I still don’t know how I’m going to navigate these years. If girl challenges are anything like the boy challenges I’ve already encountered, I’m steeling my nerves and fastening my seat belt.

But I decided I wanted a daughter when I fell in love with Joel because I just had to see another little girl fall in love with her daddy the way I did. What I didn’t anticipate was how much I would fall in love with her along the way.

From the moment I locked bright eyes with a one week late, nearly ten pound Vivienne I knew she was something special. If I didn’t know it then, I was about to find out in short order when  she refused to sleep without being held by mom, dad or grandma in the hospital bringing mom and dad to tears. She was a force of nature. She would bend my will and change my spirit.

Thankfully, she’s making my spirit kinder. Kinder to myself and kinder to others.

“I need a hug” she blurts out in the middle of a tear-streaked tantrum.

“You my best friend” she assures me with a warm matter of fact smile.

“Don’t get owies. And don’t fall down!” she chimes as a  farewell.

Her spirit is as bright as her eyes. She’s silly and sweet and strong. Her presence in my life challenges me to change my narrative, to shift my paradigm.

As long as I can remember, I’ve been dissatisfied with my appearance for any number of reasons. Not in any clinical way, probably. From what I can gather, my feelings are super basic and typical for women of my generation.

This spilled over into how I talked about myself to others, which was problem enough. But it also controlled the voice in my head, which in turn controlled the way I talked to and about other women. This is a real problem.

I can’t control society. I can’t control the rhetoric my daughters will be exposed to (though I do turn off “Ideal Image” commercials at 7 a.m.- I’m looking at you, 99.1 The Mix). But I can control what they hear me say. I can protect them from my demons. I can let Vivi revel in the feeling of my squishy tummy. I can answer her questions about my spider veins. I can let her touch my stretch marks (which I had waaaayyyyy before babies, fyi).

I can do all of those things because she is a good and kind girl. I can do it because she is listening to me and learning how to become a good and kind woman- to herself and to others.

I must change my narrative and shift my paradigm because someday her body might look like mine and I want her to be good and kind to it.

I must change my narrative because I want her to be better than me. I can shift my paradigm because wanting to make her better makes me better.

I’m still sometimes dissatisfied by my body and appearance. I’m sure everyone is. But what #luck that my body is healthy and strong. What #luck that my body and mind support my family in a variety of ways. What #luck (seriously!) that my body gave me not one, but THREE, reasons to be a better person. What #luck that her spirit has made me into a better person.

Thank you, Vivi. Thank you for being the best friend I never knew I always needed. You are bright and bold. You make me want to be a better mom, woman, and friend. You make me love your daddy, brother and sister more.

I can’t wait to navigate grade school mean girls, middle school insecurities, and high school prom drama with you. Or maybe we’ll encounter none of those. But whatever we find along our way, I know you’ll make me do better and be better than I could have imagined before we met. Happy 3rd birthday, sweet sweet girl.