Dear Maddie,
When you were born, I was 27 years old. I was a relatively new lawyer. I was a young and confident professional. I had no idea about anything. I also thought it was going to be hilarious if I nick-named you Mad Dog. I had visions of you as a toddler and I would say, "Let's go Mad Dog!" And you would say back, "Ok, Daddy!" Then we'd drive off on a motorcycle or something.
But then you were born. The sweetest most delicate little thing. Brought forth from 11 hours of grueling labor. I was in absolute awe of your mom. I was stunned at the emotion I felt immediately. And I would be damned if I let anyone ever call you Mad Dog, let alone call you that myself.
You are so precious to me. And the vulnerability of being a parent came upon me all at once. I would not be able to control so much about your life. All I wanted to do was protect you and keep you safe.
Then sitting, ever so cutely, on your upper lip was your first struggle to overcome. The emotions I have around you being born with a cleft lip are complex. I never want you to feel self-conscious or that you are not something you should be because of it. It was so small and precious it made you instantly adored by everyone you met. This was truly something that made you unique. And I have tried to reinforce this with you. You were the most beautiful little thing I had ever seen when you were born. You are beautiful now. This is something that makes you rare and wonderful.
But nonetheless, it hurt my heart that so obvious, at your first appearance, was a reminder of the difficult struggles of life. A reminder that I cannot shield you from life’s pain. It was a gentle one, however, and we were so grateful that many of the complications that can come with a cleft lip (palate issues, speech issues etc.) were spared for you.
Here is the picture I have on my desk. It will be there until the day I die.
Maddie, I am not kidding that when we went in for your surgery and they told us the risks, we thought you were so perfect and precious we almost reconsidered. The nurse then, somewhat forcefully, told us the surgery was the right thing to do and of course it was.
Madeleine Jane. You are unique, special, smart, caring and sweet. You are a joy in every way. I love you.
My hope for you is that whenever you think of the tiny scar on your lip, which I hope is not often, it will remind you of Jesus’s promise: “In this world you will have trouble, but take heart, I have overcome the world.” John 16:33. Seek first Jesus’s kingdom here on earth and you will be ok. When we turn over our fears, worries, and even insecurities to God we are accepting life as it is and trusting Him. This is not to say you won't have worries and anxiety, you will and that's normal. Instead when you have them say them out loud to your heavenly father. (You can also say them out loud to me as well.) I entrust your precious heart to Him who is strong enough to keep you safe. In ways that I never could.
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