This is Ella.
She is not the daughter I expected to have. When I was pregnant with her, I’d imagine her in all the little girls I saw everywhere. I just knew she’d be blond, with long, straight hair. She’d carry a little purse and wear smocked dresses and bows. My daughter would be dainty and clean.
That is not Ella.
She’ll wear dresses, but only if I beg, plead, and force her. Bows stay in her hair, on a good day, for twenty minutes. Usually I find them on the floor, minutes after combing through her nest of golden caramels curls. Ella’s favorite accessory is dirt.
Princesses? Ella thinks they are just pretty decorations on her underwear. She doesn’t understand why she can’t have Thomas the Train panties.
I signed her up for a little dance class, but what she desperately wants to do is play t-ball. At Dollywood, she doesn’t understand why she can’t ride the roller coaster. Ella is my fearless baby.
I’m always having to tell her, “when you’re bigger, Sweet Pea, then it will be your turn.”
I don’t miss the daughter that I imagined her to be. To me, she is perfect.
Ella, please always be who you are. Walk your own walk. Mommy and Daddy love you. YOU.