Letters From the In-Between: maybe she needs your love more than your perfection

Sometimes I set the bar too high, expecting so much from me, I end up feeling quite unsure, as my confidence starts to flee.

I forget that I'm evolving, that motherhood is learned, not known, expecting perfection from myself, while overlooking all the love we've grown.

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Lately, I know you’ve been carrying something heavy. Not because you don’t love her. Because you love her so much. So much that sometimes the weight of that love turns into fear.

Fear of getting it wrong.

Fear of saying the wrong thing.

Fear of not being patient enough.

Fear of not being present enough.

Fear of one day realizing that despite your best intentions, you still passed on wounds you never wanted her to carry.

And I understand. Because you know firsthand how much childhood matters.

You know that words matter.

You know that absence matters.

You know that patterns matter.

You know that the experiences we have as children can stay with us for decades.

So of course you worry.

Of course you question yourself.

Of course there are days when you replay moments in your mind and wonder if you should have done something differently.

But there is something I wish you could see more clearly.

You spend so much time counting your mistakes.

And so little time counting your love.

You remember the moments when you lost patience.

The moments when you said no too quickly.

The moments when you were tired.

The moments when you wish you had responded differently.

But rarely do you stop and count the thousands of moments that came before and after them.

The hugs.

The bedtime stories.

The laughter.

The listening.

The comfort.

The presence.

The endless ways you make her feel loved every single day.

And maybe that is because you are measuring your motherhood by your imperfections instead of your devotion.

I know you are terrified of getting it wrong.

I know part of you believes that every mistake carries enormous consequences.

That if you fail, she pays the price.

But what if you are carrying a responsibility that was never yours to carry?

What if the goal was never perfection?

What if no child has ever needed a perfect mother?

What if what children need most is something far more human?

A mother who loves them deeply.

A mother who keeps showing up.

A mother who tries again.

A mother who repairs.

A mother who apologizes when she gets it wrong.

A mother who teaches them that mistakes are not the end of love.

Because when I think about the pain you carry from your own childhood, it wasn’t created by a few imperfect moments.

It came from wounds that were never acknowledged.

Needs that were never seen.

Patterns that repeated for years without awareness.

And you are not doing that.

You question yourself.

You reflect.

You learn.

You grow.

You return.

You care.

You care so much that sometimes it hurts.

And maybe that matters more than you realize.

Maybe Sharon does not need a mother who never gets it wrong.

Maybe she needs a mother who shows her what it looks like to be beautifully human.

Someone who makes mistakes.

Someone who learns.

Someone who loves fiercely.

Someone who keeps coming back.

There is another truth I want you to remember.

Your job was never to protect her from every disappointment, every frustration, every uncomfortable feeling she will ever experience.

That is impossible.

Your job is not to create a childhood without challenges.

Your job is to create a childhood where love remains present through the challenges.

To teach her that difficult feelings can be felt.

That mistakes can be repaired.

That relationships can survive imperfection.

That she is loved even when life is messy.

And perhaps that is the lesson you are still learning too.

That love and perfection are not the same thing.

That your worth as a mother is not measured by whether you get everything right.

It is measured by how deeply you love.

And if there is one thing I know for certain, it is this: She will not remember a perfect mother. She will remember a mother who loved her with her whole heart.

And you have done that from the very beginning.

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What I know now

• Children do not need perfect parents.

• They need loving ones.

• Mistakes do not break relationships.

• The absence of repair does.

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Carry this with you

You are not failing her because you are human. You are loving her while being human. And that is enough.

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Before you go…

What if the thing your child needs most is not your perfection, but your love? I'd love to read you in the comments.