To Whom It May Concern,
My daughter is pretty awesome. And I'm not just saying that because she's mine. She's happy. She smiles and laughs....sometimes, when you tickle under her chin, she does this deep belly laugh that seriously melts your heart. She scowls, she waves, she claps....she dances to rap music and falls asleep to Israel Kamakawiwo’ole. See, she's pretty cool.
She has a best friend (whose a boy, but he's a gentleman, so we're not getting too protective yet). She loves long stroller rides and falls asleep during car trips. She really doesn't care much for TV, but can't take her eyes off the screen during crime shows and Resident Evil. She sweetly says dada when she's happy, and yells mama when she's mad. She walks now too, did you know that? Probably not. She still needs to be holding on to something, but otherwise she pretty much has the walking thing down. She loves her puppies and forgives everyone. Lucky for you. However, her mama ain't quite so laid back.
Her mama is one big protective bear.
Unlike my innocent 10 month old, I have life experience. I know what you're doing. It's too much work for you now. You have your own life, your own family, your own stuff to do. I get it, and I understand. Things come up, people get busy and sometimes it just doesn't always work out to visit. That's okay. But if you do choose to be a part of my daughter's life, it cannot be later. As her mama bear, I took the oath the day she was born to protect her and teach her and make sure I do the right thing to ensure she grows up strong and successful. Please don't think for a second I will make an exception to that oath for you. No, no. I will protect her from the heartbreak of the revolving door of people that claim to care about her. She's 10 months old. She's not new. The door is slowly closing and pretty soon you'll need to get through me to get to her.
This isn't personal. It isn't mean or malicious or comes with some type of personal agenda. It's a mama bear, with life experience, refusing to let her cub get hurt.
I have volunteered this delicate information about my daughter to you. You have not asked. You don't stop by. You weren't there to lend a listening ear when we were dealing with the very real case that our awesome daughter could potentially have a hearing disability (she's fine, by the way). You've never changed a diaper or pushed her in a swing at the park. You haven't taken her on a walk or tried to soothe her cries. Luckily, other people have. People I have not had to ask, people who I have known for mere moments of time....and I encourage you to remember this if the day shall come where you decide to accuse me of purposely keeping my child from you for my own personal gain.
You have met her less than a handful of times, if you've even met her at all. The only pictures you have are ones you've seen on Facebook. This will be all you will ever have. So enjoy it. Soak it all in and accept it. We'll be okay here; we're not missing you at all.