No big deal.
Just a literal walking dream come true.
When I was fifteen, my family moved to New Zealand for a short time. Fifteen is an interesting age to be uprooted and dropped into any new school and community, let alone one halfway around the world, but I signed on to the adventure willingly.
While I was there, I became a fan of an Australian TV show called Home and Away, which at that time starred actress Isla Fisher, and I thought Isla was the most beautiful name I’d ever heard. I’d dreamed of being a mother since I was a little girl; at fifteen, I day-dreamed that one day I’d have a little girl of my own named Isla.
Fifteen years ago today, my Isla was born.
I’ve been thinking a lot about what I wish I’d known at fifteen, what I wish for my daughter to know as she sets off on another year of growing up and growing into herself.
I wish I’d known that perfection is an illusion and striving for it is a fool’s game.
I wish I’d known that self-validation feels so, so much better than validation by anyone else, and particularly the validation of boys.
I wish I’d known that you can be compassionate and also have boundaries, and that each is strengthened by the other.
I wish I’d known that opinions, particularly of the unpopular variety, make a woman an inspiration, not an outcast.
I wish I’d known that it is okay to be angry and sad and to say so.
I wish I’d known I had an abundance of time and opportunity ahead of me, so I could relax a little.
And when I was fifteen, I wish I’d known that when you came into my life, my Isla, you’d be an answer to the question: What am I here for? I wish I’d known that mothering you would save me and give me purpose. I’ve been your mother imperfectly and I’ve carried you while carrying my self-doubt and I’ve battled my shadows while your tiny feet shadowed mine, and now I have both the incredible pleasure and the heart-shattering agony of watching you begin to take steps away from me, without my hand in yours.
It is wild to me that I’m the mother of a fifteen-year-old. It is wilder still that I get to be the mother of you in particular and bear witness as you build what I know will be a beautiful life. I would say that I wish I’d known it would be like this, but the truth is I’m happy for the delightful surprise of you. You’re kind of a big deal. You’re a dream come true.