Through the Eyes of Love

January 29, 2018 Dana Hemelt

Your heart (Photo courtesy kaniths, Flickr Creative Commons)

“If you found out I had been switched at birth, would you give me up for your real daughter?” she asked.

This unusual topic of conversation came up on a recent family vacation when the four of us were eating lunch and chatting about nothing in particular. My 19-year-old daughter asked the question and I immediately responded with “Absolutely not!”

Her shoulders relaxed and relief flooded her face, and I marveled that she would have even the tiniest bit of doubt about my answer. Yet she is not a parent, and she does not know of the unconditional love that a mother has for her children.

My children are more than my loves; they are my outside hearts. But the love that was so desperate and fierce when they were infants has developed into a deeper, more complicated love during the past two decades. Were the proposed scenario to happen, I can’t imagine loving that imaginary biological daughter the same way I love my teenager now simply because she would share my DNA.

When my children were small, there were nights when I gazed at their sleeping faces and thought, “I am responsible for these people. Me. I take care of them, nurture them, teach them how to be a part of this world.”

I loved my small children and as they grew into older children and then teens, I was thrilled and relieved to find that I not only loved these people but I also really liked them. Not all the time, to be sure, but when they decide to be pleasant human beings, I enjoy their company immensely.

I kept revisiting the conversation with my daughter in the days following our lunch, and I realized that she had been focusing on how I would feel about her if I discovered we were not biological mother and child. Would I still love her? Of course I would. I love her not only for who she is, but for who I have become because of her.

I am who I am in large part due to my relationships with other people. That seems like an un-feminist thing to say, that I am a woman defined by my roles. Yet I would argue that all of us — of any and all genders — are defined in large part by our relationships. The essence of being human is our connection with other people. So when I think of who I am, I consider how I see myself through the eyes of the people I love.

My parents were my first loves, and that love was effortless and unconditional. Through their eyes, I see myself as a strong woman who can handle anything that comes her way.

My sister was my third love. She was my first playmate and she is my oldest friend. Through her eyes, I will always see myself as the big sister — sometimes wise, sometimes annoying, but always at her back.

My husband is my partner in this hectic, messy life. To know that he loves and likes me enough to spend the rest of his life with me is humbling. Through his eyes, I see myself as smart, funny and beautiful.

My girlfriends fill that space that my family can’t; they give me permission to be myself in all my imperfect glory, with no expectations or demands. Through their eyes, I see myself as witty, caring and fun. Knowing that these amazing women choose to spend time with me is a huge boost to my ego.

And then there are my children. It is through their eyes that I see myself at my most loyal, most generous, most important. For many years, I was the center of their world; their dependence on me was intertwined with their love. As they have gotten older, the love comes less from necessity and more from choice.

For almost 20 years, I have learned to love the person who is my daughter. I love her for who she is, and for who I am through her eyes. Nothing could change that, and I suspect she will realize that if and when she has her own children, biological or not.

I couldn’t un-love her or her brother for anything.

A Baltimore native, Dana Hemelt and her husband live in Howard County. They have two teenagers. She blogs at kissmylist.com and tweets @KissMyList.