I, at the simple, oblivious age of eighteen, was still considered a “child” up until two months ago. I have acquired a multitude of commendable traits, strengths, weaknesses, memories good and bad, and a load of stories to tell. I am now considered, with a beautiful, yet frightening ring to it, an “adult.” I am no where close to my fullest potential of maturity or skill sets to take on life by myself, but I’m getting there. Each day with each breath taking obstacle I pass, and through each growling demon I conquer, I get a step closer.

My body, mind, soul, or even wallet could not even come close to be able to support another human being at this very moment, but I know what I will do when the time comes. Visions of pink, lace, bows, and glitter dance in my head, and it all can happen if I have a daughter.

If I have a daughter, she won’t need to call me “mom”, instead she can refer to me as her life preserver, for when she finds herself drowning and needs me to hold her above water.

If I have a daughter, I will hang stars on her ceiling so she wakes up every morning and goes to bed every night looking at what she has the potential to reach for.

If I have a daughter, “don’t roll your eyes like that” I have been looking in that direction for years and it always brought me right back down. Bring your eyes back to their regular position to face your problems in the best way: straight on.

If I have a daughter, she is going to learn that her biggest enemy is life itself, her cuts are going to be entirely deeper than the ones she acquired from riding her bike the first time. And her bruises are going to be even harder heal than the ones she had on her knees for the first month of her learning how to walk. It is going to beat her down and leave her with no idea where to get back up. But losing her breath is only going to remind her how perfect it feels to take in air.

If I have a daughter, she will have her heartbroken. If she is anything like me, she will see the caution signs, but ignore them any way because she knows the risks. She will never hear an “I told you so”, instead, she will come home to find a freezer containing ice cream and two spoons for her and I waiting on the counter.

If I have a daughter, she will always have an extra set of hands to attempt to pick up the pieces. Because no matter how big she gets or how far she spreads her fingers her hands will never be large enough to get them all.

If I have a daughter, there will be days where she goes to put out the fire and is left with burns on her hands, where none of her questions have answers, where it seems as if every time she tries to fly away she has her feet chained to the ground, she will know to be thankful for those days. Because there is not one bad day that she has not made it through yet.

If I have a daughter, she will never dull the glimmer she has in her eyes, or quiet her voice to a whisper. Whenever she makes a mistake she will be the first one to say “i’m sorry”, but she will never apologize for being herself. No matter who tries to reveal sadness, insecurity, or guilt onto her will not stand a chance. When they serve her heartbreak on a silver platter, or laugh in her face when they hand her real, tenacious pain, she will simply say, “you really should meet my mother.”