This is one of the most satisfying newsletters I’ve ever read. And your daughter is ridiculously cute. May she never lose that smile. Thank you, Jeannie.
Wow, Ryan, that is an incredible endorsement of my writing. Thank you kindly. It means a lot to hear that. I'm so grateful you are here with us! Usually, I write about Sarah (or post her videos), but I wanted to showcase Felicity today, because she is my quiet, unassuming, sensitive artist who has always told me she felt she was in Sarah's shadow. It's important to me that I place her in the spotlight, too, because she is incredibly gifted and courageous and kind.
What a blessing to have the words of your mother memorialized in a letter, even if it's never sent, or ever found. Thank you for sharing. Mothers and daughters...its always brutifully complicated, isn't it?
Totally, Jess. I still feel it with my mom--that tension, the grip between craving her attention and acceptance and despising her intrusion in my personal space. I try to do differently with my children, but I know I fall short. I know Felicity will come back to me one day and tell me all the things that I did or didn't do that hurt her deeply. And I am bracing myself to respond to her with validation and to apologize.
Now that my Mom is gone, I would give anything to understand her better, to know the why behind her what's. I'm not sure there's a way to mother without doing it wrong or a way to daughter without finding fault. But I agree that the repair is the most important part. Thank you so much for sharing your humanity. It is, as always, my most favorite part.
Oh, I feel what you are saying, Jess. I do. That “mother wound” is real. Sometimes people think when I post about my mom (like I did yesterday, about my bad haircut) that I am denigrating her. I’m not trying to. She is human. We all are. I don’t pretend that I’m a saintly mother, because only this morning I grew impatient with Sarah as she cackled her autistic laugh in my face while I was trying to button her uniform skirt and help her brush her teeth.
She is almost TWELVE and I still have to do these things. I try to remember that she is not like most twelve-year-olds, but it’s still hard.
When I have these moments, I think of my own mom and the unspoken hardships she probably battled while I was growing up. It helps build more compassion for her and appreciate all of the love she was able to provide for my younger brother and me.
Compassion for the women we didn’t know then. That’s so huge. There are so many moments in my own parenting where I think “I get it now, Mom, I get it.” I know the goal is not perfection; actually, I’m not sure I know what the goal is now that I think about it. I just pray my daughter knows in her bones how hard I tried, how good I wanted to be, how flawed I know I am, and how insanely much I love her. Maybe that’s the best we can do.
So true, Jess. To be able to say we don’t know is huge in and of itself. I think that is what keeps me grounded—remembering that I don’t really know what I’m doing but that I’m trying every day to be a good version of myself. And when I’m not, I know I can repair and reconnect with the ones I love. Allowing myself to be human has helped me forgive myself these last five years or more.
I've spent most of my life holding myself accountable for being perfect. It has been a huge awakening for me to realize that I am the only one with that bar, especially when it comes to parenting. Failing, fumbling, f-ing it up are part of the deal. It's the what comes after that matters. I want to model for my daughter what being a human mom looks like and also what being a compassionate human that makes mistakes looks like. I hope that her seeing me screw up and come back to her with an "I'm sorry" gives her permission to do the same. Thank you for sharing your experience with this. It's helpful to write it out.
Truly a beautiful letter, Jeannie. We all feel like we fail our children. As a grandma to a 12 year old, I often cringe at my memories of raising my daughter through her teenage years. But we do our best, and trust the rest. 💖
That's a great perspective, Nancy, and I always appreciate hearing from moms who are on the "other side" of where I am. It helps to know there is a brighter season of parenting ahead and also that we can somehow learn from our mistakes and try to do our best.
Grace for yourself, dear one, as you navigate one of the most selfless, thankless, underrated roles on earth -- being mom. I refuse to believe you have a selfish bone in your body. You feel so deeply, do right by everyone, and give of yourself so completely that I sometimes feel at a loss for words to express my admiration for you. You do your best every day, Jeannie, and that really is all you can do. This was such a poignant read. I'm sure Felicity will have her own perspective that she might share one day but I hope she'll also know just how loved she is.
What a kind and heartfelt affirmation. I admit I struggle to accept this level of kindness directed at me, because I have lived most of my life in self-deprecation. Which, I know and am working on, is a result of deep wounds. Sometimes I feel as if these words are about someone else, someone other than me. So I am learning to graciously accept them and try to believe them. Thank you, Mansi, for believing in me.
What a beautiful, heartfelt letter to your eldest daughter. The pain of feeling torn between the needs of children, especially when was has disability that comes with demands for extra time and attention, is real. Than you for sharing this.
I know you understand that well, Nancy - being torn between your children because of the extra care of one of them. It is a constant heartache for me and a sense that I'm not going right by the other kids. I appreciate you being here.
This is so real. We (hubby & me) tried to make sure that each one of us had some quality time with our other two daughters daily. We didn't always succeed, but we made the effort.
We lived so far removed from everywhere that some of that quality time was schlepping them back and forth to bagpipe band practices or violin lessons, and other types of individual activities. All any parent can do is their best and pray it's enough.
But I hear you. I get where that concern is coming from.
Thank you, Nancy. “All any parent can do is their best and pray it’s enough.” Well said. Maybe part of why parenting is so hard for me is that I know I am human and continually fall short with my energy level and the time I have to distribute among all five of my kids. It never seems to be enough for any of them. Plus, I need to recharge my own “tank” so that I can be the best version of myself for them and when I am in the world.
I only had three children to juggle, and that was challenging enough. Children are resilient and forgiving. Your oldest has reached an age where she can see, hear and understand the challenges to a certain extent.
Find those moments when you can really be present for her, and for your others. All kids want to be seen, heard and loved. I suspect you do all of that more than you might think you do.
The line, 'It doesn't have to make sense to be true,' struck me.
It's a beautiful reminder that love and life don't always follow a logical path. Sometimes the most profound truths defy explanation, existing in a realm beyond reason and understanding. It's in those moments of surrender, when we embrace the mystery and paradox of existence, that we often find the deepest connections and meaning.
Great philosophical take, Alex. I admit that surrender is one of the most challenging practices for me. In all ways and in all parts of myself: as a mom, a wife, a friend, a daughter, a sister, a woman, a person in middle age. But also in time: to surrender to this moment or this day or this week or this year. To surrender to the seasons, both literally (I am done with winter) and figuratively (like dry seasons or seasons of proliferation). I just struggle with letting go of controlling it all and instead allowing what will be, to be.
Well. Surrender as a concept has been something that I have struggled with for decades. And I teach it. And I still struggle with it. :) But it is more about practicing the process because the moment we say we struggled with it, we have become attached to the outcome, and thus, we have not surrendered!
I can really only speak credibly to "moments of surrender." 🩵 I cannot speak to surrendering for any length of time. 😂
Hmm, I guess I am still learning that the language I use around these concepts (like saying I “struggle” with surrender) somehow inserts that self-fulfilling prophecy. Truthfully, I grew up an incredibly pessimistic person and have worked very intentionally on growing in the area of re-framing negative perceptions and attitudes. It’s clearly still ingrained in there somewhere, so there are more layers for me to unravel!
Having worked with many people on mindfulness, meditation, yoga, surrender, etc... you are not alone here. Many people think they are really bad at "x." And it comes from having a few repeated experiences with that. When in reality, they had a few experiences with a certain lineage of meditation, or yoga, or something... and that just didn't vibe with them. And there are like a bazillion of those lineages nowadays!
Each of us is wired for a certain affect - you know this from your psychology studies. Nothing wrong with that :) Maybe zen approaches to meditation and mindfulness aren't going to jive with you - that's actually okay. There are a ton of other ones that focus less on surrender!
Of course! You might want to check out mantra meditation. It is a focus on a word or phrase. It focuses less on surrender, and more on the focused attention and absorption of the mantra and what it means to you.
I am so overwhelmed with emotions right now that it is hard to respond in words. Love is certainly all powerful and takes away all illusion of anything else in life that has that importance.
I hear you and feel you Jeannie. What a beautiful, touching letter. Unsent letters are great but here is an idea I stole from a friend: she has a notebook that she and her daughter write to whenever they have something to share that is too tough for words. They don’t ever talk about it, they just write it in the book and leave it on the pillow. When I couldn’t talk to my 14 year old I wrote the first entry in our book. It took her 5 days to respond because she was angry. But then she did! She apologized and said she understood what I meant. So now the book is with her and I tell her to use it when words are too heavy to speak. Just an idea…?
I love that idea, Imola! We can implement that right away in our home. Thank you for sharing that with me. You are such a wellspring of wisdom. I always feel grateful for everything I learn from you.
Beautiful letter, Jeannie. I'm just curious if you will read it to Felicity or have her read it herself? The letter is heartfelt, beautifully written, and clearly shows your unstoppable love for her. You have inspired me to write a letter to my 16-year-old daughter, just to tell her how I feel about her.
Oh, that's wonderful, Beth! I am so glad it inspired you to write to your own daughter. I have considered giving Felicity a version of this letter when she is a little older. Or some type of letter that resembles this one, maybe a revised version to include the years that will pass between the time I wrote it and the time I give it to her.
That was really beautiful. My granddaughter is autistic, and her younger brother has grown up with helping her navigate life, so has had to be older than his years. A challenging condition doesn’t affect just one family member, it affects all. You’ve done a wonderful job of honoring all your children it send to me. 💗
Thanks, Rusty. My middle daughter Sarah is autistic, too. You said it well when you said "a challenging condition doesn't affect just one family member, it affects all." Exactly. Thanks for the validation here. Glad to have you with us!
Such a beautifully written letter, Jeannie. Your deep love and emotion is tangible in these words. I don’t think many of us feel that we are getting parenting ‘right’ but there is always a context, and the majority of us do the best we can with what we have, and are going through, at the time. Your words show a real self-awareness and a clear determination the be the best parent you can be. I wish that I had had that awareness when my children were young.
Maybe Felicity would appreciate that letter one day.
I always feel a wonderful anticipation when I see a new post from you in your inbox. You never fail to make an impact with your words 😊
Thanks, Pam. I have considered giving her a version of this letter someday when she's older. I did keep an intimate diary of letters written to her when she was in the womb, which I was not able to do with any of my children who came after her.
She is the child of mine who most reminds me of myself with her sensitivity and often brazen courage to do what's right, even when no one else is. Maybe that's why it hurts more that she pushes me away. I know that could change one day, though.
Finally, your kind affirmation and encouragement about my writing truly keeps me showing up here to share, in the hope that my stories and words might reach hearts like yours, Pam. Thank you.
This is one of the most satisfying newsletters I’ve ever read. And your daughter is ridiculously cute. May she never lose that smile. Thank you, Jeannie.
Wow, Ryan, that is an incredible endorsement of my writing. Thank you kindly. It means a lot to hear that. I'm so grateful you are here with us! Usually, I write about Sarah (or post her videos), but I wanted to showcase Felicity today, because she is my quiet, unassuming, sensitive artist who has always told me she felt she was in Sarah's shadow. It's important to me that I place her in the spotlight, too, because she is incredibly gifted and courageous and kind.
I'm glad to support you and agree with you 100%. Felicity will undoubtedly appreciate the recognition tremendously.
Thanks, Ryan. That means a lot!
What a blessing to have the words of your mother memorialized in a letter, even if it's never sent, or ever found. Thank you for sharing. Mothers and daughters...its always brutifully complicated, isn't it?
Totally, Jess. I still feel it with my mom--that tension, the grip between craving her attention and acceptance and despising her intrusion in my personal space. I try to do differently with my children, but I know I fall short. I know Felicity will come back to me one day and tell me all the things that I did or didn't do that hurt her deeply. And I am bracing myself to respond to her with validation and to apologize.
Now that my Mom is gone, I would give anything to understand her better, to know the why behind her what's. I'm not sure there's a way to mother without doing it wrong or a way to daughter without finding fault. But I agree that the repair is the most important part. Thank you so much for sharing your humanity. It is, as always, my most favorite part.
Oh, I feel what you are saying, Jess. I do. That “mother wound” is real. Sometimes people think when I post about my mom (like I did yesterday, about my bad haircut) that I am denigrating her. I’m not trying to. She is human. We all are. I don’t pretend that I’m a saintly mother, because only this morning I grew impatient with Sarah as she cackled her autistic laugh in my face while I was trying to button her uniform skirt and help her brush her teeth.
She is almost TWELVE and I still have to do these things. I try to remember that she is not like most twelve-year-olds, but it’s still hard.
When I have these moments, I think of my own mom and the unspoken hardships she probably battled while I was growing up. It helps build more compassion for her and appreciate all of the love she was able to provide for my younger brother and me.
Compassion for the women we didn’t know then. That’s so huge. There are so many moments in my own parenting where I think “I get it now, Mom, I get it.” I know the goal is not perfection; actually, I’m not sure I know what the goal is now that I think about it. I just pray my daughter knows in her bones how hard I tried, how good I wanted to be, how flawed I know I am, and how insanely much I love her. Maybe that’s the best we can do.
So true, Jess. To be able to say we don’t know is huge in and of itself. I think that is what keeps me grounded—remembering that I don’t really know what I’m doing but that I’m trying every day to be a good version of myself. And when I’m not, I know I can repair and reconnect with the ones I love. Allowing myself to be human has helped me forgive myself these last five years or more.
I've spent most of my life holding myself accountable for being perfect. It has been a huge awakening for me to realize that I am the only one with that bar, especially when it comes to parenting. Failing, fumbling, f-ing it up are part of the deal. It's the what comes after that matters. I want to model for my daughter what being a human mom looks like and also what being a compassionate human that makes mistakes looks like. I hope that her seeing me screw up and come back to her with an "I'm sorry" gives her permission to do the same. Thank you for sharing your experience with this. It's helpful to write it out.
Truly a beautiful letter, Jeannie. We all feel like we fail our children. As a grandma to a 12 year old, I often cringe at my memories of raising my daughter through her teenage years. But we do our best, and trust the rest. 💖
That's a great perspective, Nancy, and I always appreciate hearing from moms who are on the "other side" of where I am. It helps to know there is a brighter season of parenting ahead and also that we can somehow learn from our mistakes and try to do our best.
Grace for yourself, dear one, as you navigate one of the most selfless, thankless, underrated roles on earth -- being mom. I refuse to believe you have a selfish bone in your body. You feel so deeply, do right by everyone, and give of yourself so completely that I sometimes feel at a loss for words to express my admiration for you. You do your best every day, Jeannie, and that really is all you can do. This was such a poignant read. I'm sure Felicity will have her own perspective that she might share one day but I hope she'll also know just how loved she is.
What a kind and heartfelt affirmation. I admit I struggle to accept this level of kindness directed at me, because I have lived most of my life in self-deprecation. Which, I know and am working on, is a result of deep wounds. Sometimes I feel as if these words are about someone else, someone other than me. So I am learning to graciously accept them and try to believe them. Thank you, Mansi, for believing in me.
I mean every word of it. I don't know you but I feel like deep in my bones I know you all too well. Hugs!
Same!
What a beautiful, heartfelt letter to your eldest daughter. The pain of feeling torn between the needs of children, especially when was has disability that comes with demands for extra time and attention, is real. Than you for sharing this.
I know you understand that well, Nancy - being torn between your children because of the extra care of one of them. It is a constant heartache for me and a sense that I'm not going right by the other kids. I appreciate you being here.
This is so real. We (hubby & me) tried to make sure that each one of us had some quality time with our other two daughters daily. We didn't always succeed, but we made the effort.
We lived so far removed from everywhere that some of that quality time was schlepping them back and forth to bagpipe band practices or violin lessons, and other types of individual activities. All any parent can do is their best and pray it's enough.
But I hear you. I get where that concern is coming from.
Thank you, Nancy. “All any parent can do is their best and pray it’s enough.” Well said. Maybe part of why parenting is so hard for me is that I know I am human and continually fall short with my energy level and the time I have to distribute among all five of my kids. It never seems to be enough for any of them. Plus, I need to recharge my own “tank” so that I can be the best version of myself for them and when I am in the world.
I only had three children to juggle, and that was challenging enough. Children are resilient and forgiving. Your oldest has reached an age where she can see, hear and understand the challenges to a certain extent.
Find those moments when you can really be present for her, and for your others. All kids want to be seen, heard and loved. I suspect you do all of that more than you might think you do.
Beautiful 💜
Thank you, Breeann.
This made me cry. As the daughter of a mom who could never have written a letter like this, and the mom of a daughter I love more than anything.
Thank you, Ally, for your thoughtful comment and for taking the time to stop by and read my piece today. ❤️
The line, 'It doesn't have to make sense to be true,' struck me.
It's a beautiful reminder that love and life don't always follow a logical path. Sometimes the most profound truths defy explanation, existing in a realm beyond reason and understanding. It's in those moments of surrender, when we embrace the mystery and paradox of existence, that we often find the deepest connections and meaning.
Great philosophical take, Alex. I admit that surrender is one of the most challenging practices for me. In all ways and in all parts of myself: as a mom, a wife, a friend, a daughter, a sister, a woman, a person in middle age. But also in time: to surrender to this moment or this day or this week or this year. To surrender to the seasons, both literally (I am done with winter) and figuratively (like dry seasons or seasons of proliferation). I just struggle with letting go of controlling it all and instead allowing what will be, to be.
Well. Surrender as a concept has been something that I have struggled with for decades. And I teach it. And I still struggle with it. :) But it is more about practicing the process because the moment we say we struggled with it, we have become attached to the outcome, and thus, we have not surrendered!
I can really only speak credibly to "moments of surrender." 🩵 I cannot speak to surrendering for any length of time. 😂
Hmm, I guess I am still learning that the language I use around these concepts (like saying I “struggle” with surrender) somehow inserts that self-fulfilling prophecy. Truthfully, I grew up an incredibly pessimistic person and have worked very intentionally on growing in the area of re-framing negative perceptions and attitudes. It’s clearly still ingrained in there somewhere, so there are more layers for me to unravel!
Having worked with many people on mindfulness, meditation, yoga, surrender, etc... you are not alone here. Many people think they are really bad at "x." And it comes from having a few repeated experiences with that. When in reality, they had a few experiences with a certain lineage of meditation, or yoga, or something... and that just didn't vibe with them. And there are like a bazillion of those lineages nowadays!
Each of us is wired for a certain affect - you know this from your psychology studies. Nothing wrong with that :) Maybe zen approaches to meditation and mindfulness aren't going to jive with you - that's actually okay. There are a ton of other ones that focus less on surrender!
That’s such a relief to know, Alex. Thank you for the education!
Of course! You might want to check out mantra meditation. It is a focus on a word or phrase. It focuses less on surrender, and more on the focused attention and absorption of the mantra and what it means to you.
I am so overwhelmed with emotions right now that it is hard to respond in words. Love is certainly all powerful and takes away all illusion of anything else in life that has that importance.
Thank you, Susan. I am glad this touched your heart.
I hear you and feel you Jeannie. What a beautiful, touching letter. Unsent letters are great but here is an idea I stole from a friend: she has a notebook that she and her daughter write to whenever they have something to share that is too tough for words. They don’t ever talk about it, they just write it in the book and leave it on the pillow. When I couldn’t talk to my 14 year old I wrote the first entry in our book. It took her 5 days to respond because she was angry. But then she did! She apologized and said she understood what I meant. So now the book is with her and I tell her to use it when words are too heavy to speak. Just an idea…?
I love that idea, Imola! We can implement that right away in our home. Thank you for sharing that with me. You are such a wellspring of wisdom. I always feel grateful for everything I learn from you.
And I’m grateful for what I learn from you! ❤️
Beautiful letter, Jeannie. I'm just curious if you will read it to Felicity or have her read it herself? The letter is heartfelt, beautifully written, and clearly shows your unstoppable love for her. You have inspired me to write a letter to my 16-year-old daughter, just to tell her how I feel about her.
Oh, that's wonderful, Beth! I am so glad it inspired you to write to your own daughter. I have considered giving Felicity a version of this letter when she is a little older. Or some type of letter that resembles this one, maybe a revised version to include the years that will pass between the time I wrote it and the time I give it to her.
That was really beautiful. My granddaughter is autistic, and her younger brother has grown up with helping her navigate life, so has had to be older than his years. A challenging condition doesn’t affect just one family member, it affects all. You’ve done a wonderful job of honoring all your children it send to me. 💗
Thanks, Rusty. My middle daughter Sarah is autistic, too. You said it well when you said "a challenging condition doesn't affect just one family member, it affects all." Exactly. Thanks for the validation here. Glad to have you with us!
Such a beautifully written letter, Jeannie. Your deep love and emotion is tangible in these words. I don’t think many of us feel that we are getting parenting ‘right’ but there is always a context, and the majority of us do the best we can with what we have, and are going through, at the time. Your words show a real self-awareness and a clear determination the be the best parent you can be. I wish that I had had that awareness when my children were young.
Maybe Felicity would appreciate that letter one day.
I always feel a wonderful anticipation when I see a new post from you in your inbox. You never fail to make an impact with your words 😊
Thanks, Pam. I have considered giving her a version of this letter someday when she's older. I did keep an intimate diary of letters written to her when she was in the womb, which I was not able to do with any of my children who came after her.
She is the child of mine who most reminds me of myself with her sensitivity and often brazen courage to do what's right, even when no one else is. Maybe that's why it hurts more that she pushes me away. I know that could change one day, though.
Finally, your kind affirmation and encouragement about my writing truly keeps me showing up here to share, in the hope that my stories and words might reach hearts like yours, Pam. Thank you.