Lessons I Learn From My Daughter

I've determined babies are the most incredible of all God's creations. It took me almost 40 years to realize that, since it took just that long to have one (by choice). After 39½ years of life, along with 14½ weeks of complete bedrest during my pregnancy (most of that hospitalized), the birth of my dear Avia resulted in a complete shift in the way I looked at my life. In fact, I would frequently say to people after her birth, “I really don’t know what I did with the first 40 years of my life,” because when I gazed into the face of my daughter, the first 40 years of my life seemed so insignificant and incomplete.

I have learned so much from A. Her presence in my life has changed me (I would like to think for the better). It may sound a bit cliché, but one of the lessons I have learned from her is the need to exercise much patience.

As A. has moved into toddler-hood, her need for independence grows each day. Daily she says, “Let it go, I’ll do it!” “Let me do it, Mommy.” “You can do it next time, Mommy.” “Don't help me, Mommy.” So as I’m trying to get her to brush her teeth faster in the morning by attempting to take her toothbrush and guide her with my hand, she cries and whines saying, “I’ll do it!” at which point I let her continue brushing her teeth, albeit slow as molasses. Because trying to force her to brush her teeth the way I brush mine would lead to chaos and hurt feelings, and that’s a terrible way to start the day.

A. picks the best times to learn and explore – like when it’s time for us to leave for work every morning, especially when I’m running late most mornings. I open her door and say, “Come on, Avia, let’s go, we’re running late...” She really doesn’t care we’re late; all she wants to do is point to something in the car and name it so that she can further prove she is a “big girl” for recalling something or learning something new. So I have to try to convince her to get in the car by saying, “If you don’t get in the car, A., I’m going to have to help you.” That is usually enough motivation for her to move a little faster, maybe slightly faster than molasses.

As I have reflected on these “A. moments,” I’ve concluded that A. does everything s-l-o-w-l-y. It’s not that she doesn’t know how to do something – she just takes her sweet time. She’s not malicious about it...she just does things at a pace that is not like mine. In fact, it is more in line with my husband’s pace! Couldn’t she have inherited something from me?

What I am learning, though, is that if I try to usurp her way of doing things all the time, she may become stifled and withdraw. I must be patient and allow her to do things the way she feels comfortable doing them (within reason and within boundaries, of course). If I let A. be A. and do things the way she seems to be inclined to do them at times, then maybe I’m helping her develop her sense of identity and giving her permission to be who she is, even though she doesn’t do things the way I would. Maybe. I guess I’ll find out...someday. And hopefully this patience thing will pay off!