This is Six

She turned six a month ago and its taken me just as long to write this love letter to my daughter.

Although I recently wrote a post on how to to write a love letter to your kids, I’ll admit: this is hard. Sorting through all the feelings to write a cohesive message to the little girl that both inspires and challenges me daily is no easy task.

This is all I got.

Queridad Alina,

This is your six….

No longer my baby to wonder over – to hope for and wish for and yearn for – you are now a free-thinking, little girl with a destiny all her own. No longer insecure on how to raise multiracial children – how to raise you – I, once again, feel the shift in tide smothering my motherhood as we ready your vessel to set sail towards open waters.

This is it.

You are my living and thriving legacy. You are everything. Everything I wanted and planned and needed and prayed for. You are it.

But what now?

When I started writing love letters to you six years ago, my earnest came from the fear of the unknown. I worried, if something were to happen, would you remember me? Who would you become? In this black-or-white world, would your developing biracial identity be tended to? Would the Latina in you, the me in you, feel known?

I was desperate to create a tangible evidence of my motherhood so that, no matter what, you would know my love and who I am.

Six years later and halfway through Kindergarten, your days are filled away from our home nearly as much as you’re tucked behind the safety of its walls.

You lost your first tooth. Received your first note with hearts on it from a little boy. Had your first spelling test. Your first piano recital. Your days are filled with ballet folklorico and hip hop and Brazilian Jiu Jitsu and neighborhood playdates. You’ve faced disappointment and challenges. You’ve gotten in trouble and faced imperfections, learning to forgive yourself and start anew.

Your world is now much bigger than your mama and daddy. You’re learning how to make friends that are “good for you”, as we talk about the qualities our life companions should have; a lesson your dad and I will continue to give as you mature. Research shows that community is vital to a person’s happiness, yet we strive to teach how to surround yourself with healthy, “good for you” relationships.

My goodness, sweet baby girl, this is it: you’re growing up.

There are so many moments in motherhood nowadays that feel profoundly important. Like the day I held you as you cried about the mean girls at school, sitting on the kitchen floor with our dinner burning in the oven. And the moments I look in the mirror with disapproval, stopping short of talking trash because you’re watching intently, learning the intimacy of how women and their bodies coexist. Or the tinge of guilt I feel as expectations are set just shy of your reach, so to ensure you’re striving and built with resilience.

The responsibility of motherhood at this very moment feels unlike the previous six years and, every now and then, I’m reminded that we’re readying your ship for a voyage your dad and I can’t take. If I think about it too hard – like I’m doing now – I completely lose it.

This is six and it’s just the beginning of a life I’m so excited to be apart of.

Thank you to eternity for choosing me. I am humbled beyond the ability to express. Your love could have picked anyone, yet the blessing came to me as a gift from God or the Universe or my ancestors before me. You are the treasure that I’ve been digging trenches for, searching for peace, unconditional love and purpose. My heart is healed because you love it.

You, my child, are my legacy. I cherish the opportunity to mother you.

Te querio tanto y por siempre,

Su Mama