Mother’s Day rolled by, and although my mother doesn’t live near me, she is on my mind frequently.  Already well into her eighties and not particularly healthy, I’m aware that I don’t have a lot more time with her in my life. I’m not finding that an easy thought to cope with.

Now that I am blessed with a daughter of my own, I find myself re-examining my relationship with my mother - the good and the bad. I recall my mother making remarks like: “you have my body shape exactly, you gain weight in the same places I do,” and other reminders that I was doomed, according to her, to have her far less than perfect body.

One day this week while mulling over these thoughts, I realized how much I enjoy Ella for who she is and not for how much she physically reminds me of myself, or anyone else in the family. I have no idea how tall she’ll be nor what her body will look like as an adult, and I don't care as long as she is healthy.

Ella is the gift that keeps on giving as she grows and develops her own personality. She will never look like me, and for that I am thankful; she is a beautiful child with smooth brown skin, black eyes, black hair, and almond shaped eyes. Just below her cheeks and above her chin there are two precious dimples. How unique, and how refreshingly “not me.”

I don’t lose sleep at night because Ella may have inherited my inability to sit still in school for long periods or have my terrible hand writing. Instead, I rejoice in the fact that she already has better concentration than I’ve ever had, and she is only 2 ½ years old.

Yes, I must admit that I do far less fretting with Ella than I did with my biological children.

I’m celebrating being Ella’s Mom in numerous ways. I have the marvelous opportunity to raise a little girl who will “be herself” while I stand by in awe. For that I will be eternally grateful. I am so blessed.

Image Credit: Lisa S  (copy only with permission)