To the Little Girl We Once Were, and the Woman We Are Learning to Become

Yesterday, my daughter turned six.

And as I thought about the words I wanted to dedicate to her on her birthday, I found myself reflecting on all the things I hope she will know as she grows older. Not only the things I want to teach her, but also those I hope she will never come to question about herself.

I thought about the little girl she is today, the woman she will one day become, and, almost without realizing it, I found myself thinking about the little girl I once was.

Because sometimes, the words we write for our children are, in some way, words we are also writing for ourselves. Words we may have needed to hear when we were little, when we were still trying to understand who we were and where we belonged in the world.

And so, what began as a birthday letter to my daughter became an open letter to all the little girls we once were, who, in one way or another, still live within us.

If there is one thing I wish for you, my sweet Blu, it is that you grow up knowing you can have a sensitive heart and, at the same time, an immense strength.

May you never mistake gentleness for weakness. May you understand that being kind does not mean allowing others to make decisions for you, and that being strong does not require you to harden your heart. I hope you never feel you have to choose between the two, because you can be many things at once.

I hope that when you look in the mirror, you recognize your own beauty. Not the beauty others expect to find in you, nor the kind that tries to conform to standards someone else has decided upon, but the beauty that exists in everything you are.

And I'm not speaking only of what you see reflected back at you.

I'm speaking of the way you think, your curiosity, your contradictions, your sensitivity, and everything that makes you different. I hope you learn to see yourself through your own eyes before allowing the gaze of others to determine how you see yourself.

Because I know that as we grow older, the world begins to offer us definitions of who we should be. It tells us how a little girl should behave, what a woman should look like, which qualities we should cultivate, and which ones we would be better off concealing.

And without even realizing it, we can spend years trying to fit into spaces that were never meant to hold all that we are.

That's why I hope you never feel obligated to remain within a single definition. That you allow yourself to be sensitive and determined, a dreamer and a realist, calm and passionate. That you give yourself permission to change your mind, discover new interests, and become someone different from the person you once imagined you would be.

May you never allow anyone to convince you that you must choose just one version of yourself in order to be understood.

And if one day you discover that you've outgrown a place where you once felt comfortable, I hope you have the courage to leave it behind. Not because who you once were has lost its value, but because growing also means allowing ourselves to change.

I hope you never feel the need to make yourself smaller in order to feel loved.

May you never feel that your dreams are too big, your emotions too intense, or your laughter too loud. May you never learn to measure your words, your hopes, or your enthusiasm according to how much space others are willing to give you.

And as I write this, I think about how many women have learned, at some point in our lives, to do precisely the opposite.

To soften our opinions so as not to make others uncomfortable. To downplay our achievements so we won't seem boastful. To remain silent when we wanted to speak. To try to become what was expected of us, even when doing so meant moving a little further away from who we truly were.

Perhaps that's why writing these words to you moves me so deeply. Because they also remind me that it is never too late to question the ideas we've come to accept about ourselves.

That we can learn to speak to ourselves with greater kindness. That we can stop apologizing for taking up space. That we can recognize our own beauty without waiting for someone else to confirm it.

I also want you to know that life will not always be easy.

There will be days of strong winds. Days when things don't turn out as you hoped, when someone disappoints you, or when you begin to doubt your own decisions.

And although, as your mother, I wish I could protect you from every difficulty, I know that part of growing up is learning how to move through them.

So, rather than wishing you a life without storms, I hope you never forget how deep your roots run.

May you know where you come from, remember how much love has surrounded you since your very first day, and find within yourself a place to return to, even when the world seems to be moving too quickly.

I hope you also hold on to the curiosity with which you see life today. That ability to find wonder in the simplest things, to ask questions without fear, and to find joy in places where we, as adults, have often stopped looking.

I promise to always try to see life through your eyes. Not because I believe I will understand everything, but because I want to remember that the way you discover the world has so much to teach me, too.

And as you grow, I want you to be certain of one thing: Mom and Dad will always be here for you. To accompany you, to listen to you, and to remind you how much we love you, even in those moments when we cannot find the perfect words.

I know I won't be able to prevent you from doubting yourself someday. Nor will I be able to stop the world from trying to tell you who you should be. But I hope the words you hear at home become a voice you can carry with you, even when we are no longer beside you to repeat them.

And perhaps those are the very words I would like to say today to the little girl I once was.

That she didn't have to be less sensitive to be strong. That she didn't need to become someone different to deserve love. That her dreams, her emotions, and her way of seeing the world were never too much.

That she could grow, change, make mistakes, and begin again without losing any of her worth.

I think that, in some way, we all carry within us that little girl who once tried to understand what she needed to do to be accepted. And although the years pass and our lives change, perhaps there are still parts of us that need to hear those words.

So today, as I celebrate my daughter's sixth birthday, I also want to extend an invitation to whoever is reading this letter: think for a moment about the little girl you once were.

What would you tell her today, knowing everything you've lived through and learned?

Perhaps we cannot change the words we heard back then, but we can choose the words we say to ourselves now. And the ones we decide to pass on to those who come after us.

My sweet Blu, you still have so much to discover, and I have so much to learn as I walk beside you.

I hope life allows you to be fully yourself, in every version of who you are. That you never mistake your sensitivity for a limitation, nor your gentleness for weakness. That you have deep roots and, at the same time, the freedom to grow in whichever direction you choose.

And that, when you read these words again someday, you remember that you never had to become someone else to deserve all the love that has always been yours.

Happy birthday, my love.

What an extraordinary privilege it is to be your mother.