Before I had Hafsa, I did not understand how mothers could say their young daughters, especially those with tweens, were their best friends. To me, this idea was a huge red flag. Mothers are parents, and friends are friends. I thought mothers who gladly believe this must delusional and blur the lines of motherhood. These women must be oversharing and burdening their daughters with their drama. I could not understand how a toddler, a preteen, or a teenager could be their best friend. I could only imagine a friendship occurring after the daughter became an adult. But now that I have a daughter I understand.
I gave birth to my best friend, Hafsa.
She is my best friend, not because I share intimate details about my life or relationships with her. Not because I do not lead or make tough decisions. Not because I want to feel younger. Not because I do not want to parent. But because of her, I’m the best version of myself. She’s my road dog, errand runner, target shopper, and giggly friend. I genuinely enjoy her company as opposed to some others. She is someone I can share the good news with because she is always in my corner. She’s a joy to be around. I enjoy her spirit and company. She’s isn’t my confidant or my therapist. I have adult friends for secrets and my therapist for my healing. Allah blessed me with the child is best for me.
Not only do I love her, but I like her.
As she gets older, there is more we can do together. But as she gets older, there is more she wants to do without me. And it stings. This past year our relationship was tested for the first time. She blatantly disobeyed her father and me. Nothing major, kids’ stuff, but the disobedience wounded my heart. Instead of this is how she is showing her independence by being defiant, I took it personally. It hurt for a while. I thought our relationship was better than that. But it was a reminder of our relationship, like most relationships, especially the parental kid, is a test from Allah.
I had to put on my mother’s hat, which fit but did not match me.
I’m not an authoritative mother, mostly because it is not in my nature, and she hadn’t needed that type of mothering.
We regrouped, did some creative discipline, and bounced back to our normal.
We are in the dreaded middle school years, followed by the high school ones, where it is normal for children to rebel, where kids start “smelling themselves.” I’m learning to understand it is healthy and natural for her to pull away from me and our family unit. She has begun to prefer the company of others to us, me. And she is testing the boundaries of our rules to establish hers.
We provided her with roots, and she is starting to sprout wings.
I’m worried. I’m concerned about her and our relationship.
Intellectually, I understand to keep our relationship healthy. I need to realize Hafsa is growing emotionally into a woman who has her wants, desires, goals. And who has to make her own mistakes. And I know establishing a positive relationship with her will benefit her emotional, physical, and spiritual well-being. Emotionally, I want to protect her from everything that could do her harm, including herself. But my transition into mother of a pre-teen and hers into a pre-teen are changing our dynamic. I’m learning to accept this change while helping her embrace this new stage.
So, I try to facilitate outings with her and her friends. I understand one day, she will leave this nest. I know this new pre-teen chapter might contain more ups and downs than our relationship is used to. But knowing if we build a solid foundation, she will come back to each other in time.
Yesterday, she asked me if I was emotionally ready to have her. I responded, I thought I was, but I want it because I did not fully understand what it meant to have a child, especially a daughter, until months after I had her. But every day, I learned to be the kind of mother she needed, and I wanted.
Through those sleepless nights, I would repeat, this is just a moment. Now, when I have to put on a mother hat fits a little bit better with each wear, I repeat it, this is just a moment. When she says she would prefer to go to an outing without me, I think this is best and a sign of growth for both of us.
So I send her along not with my hopes and dreams but with prayers.
