10/26/2026
My daughter had dental surgery today.
She has never even so much as had a filling during her little nearly 10 years.
I tried explaining to her what it would entail a couple of weeks ago.
She hardly reacted.
I was surprised.
Last night, she came in to snuggle, I thought maybe her nerves were getting to her. She said they werenβt.
Today, she had more questions. I reassured her that it is okay to be scared and brave at the same time.
She agreed as she slowly walked into the dental office.
Body tense.
A little unsure.
So little and so big at the same time.
I wanted to be proud of her for holding it together, but it felt strangely familiar.
Suddenly, I realized maybe she was carrying more than she was saying β as so many girls and women do.
Waiting for someone to pry it out of us, worried about taking up too much space, afraid of looking weak, or less-than-capable.
At the same time, I never want to project my own experiences on to her, and thatβs the delicate dance we do as moms.
Of holding on and letting go.
Of nurturing and teaching.
Of learning what the world around us demands, and the value of listening to our own internal compass.
Of trying to protect them and at the same time, taking in their child-like wonder.
Giving them glimpses of growing up, while they still seem so little.
Motherhood. β€οΈ
