To my dearest daughter, Jade,

I want to tell you the story of how your arrival into this world was the greatest surprise our friends and family have ever known. But before I share that story, I have to explain how we got here.

When Daddy and I built our house, it was an exhausting, tiresome, emotionally draining process, and we shared our excitement with practically everyone in our lives. Someone once told us that buying a house is a test of your sanity, and that building one was even worse. It goes without saying, that they were right. We searched properties for years, continuously inspecting parcels of land, always getting our hopes up that we had found the place for our “forever” to take place, for each and every one to fall through for one reason or another. Finally, after five years of searching, we purchased the 12-acre piece of heaven that we now call home. But physically building the house was just as difficult as acquiring the land to build it on. Some days it seemed like every step was delayed, every desire was miscommunicated, and every task seemed inherently more difficult than it should have been. And without fail, almost every day following a particularly upsetting set-back, I would walk into work, or bump into a friend in a store, and they would innocently, and with the best of intentions, ask, “Hey, how’s the house coming?” Nothing knocked the wind out of me quite like that question some days. Sometimes I would answer while fighting off tears, or respond with the ever-so-phony “Oh, pretty good,” all while wishing I had never told anyone we had even considered building a house. The stress of construction really took a toll on me, which was only compounded by others’ knowledge of our struggle, and I swore that we would never be so open with our life’s plans again.

Fast-forward a whole year of living in our fantastic new home, we found out I was pregnant with you, my girl. Daddy and I were ready to begin our journey as parents, but not ready to share our excitement with anyone except each other just yet. We knew we would tell our friends and family at some point, but we were both still unsure how we felt about sharing such important and exciting news. Shortly before the end of my first trimester, the typical “safe” threshold when expectant parents share that a baby is on the way, we learned the devastating news that our friends, who were also about to give birth to their first child, had lost their beautiful baby girl at 34-weeks pregnant. We were shocked for them. We were heartbroken for them. We cried for them. As they informed their loved ones of their tremendous loss, we could not fathom the pain they were enduring, and any plans we had about protecting our peace and happiness about our baby girl, were solidified in that moment.

So, we decided to wait. We agreed to keep our joy just between us, until I couldn’t hide my growing belly any longer. We went through life as normal, waiting for the day when my clothes became too tight and my pregnant “glow” shone too brightly to be ignored. Except, here’s the wild part: For reasons I have yet to understand, that never happened. With each passing week, I would look in the mirror and be amazed that I still looked like my normal self. Some pairs of jeans were too tight, and I gained a small amount of weight, but that’s it, which my doctors reassured me was healthy and acceptable. I continued to look like my normal self until almost nine months pregnant. With the Coronavirus pandemic at its height, family holiday gatherings were postponed, so I was never in a situation where someone would be suspicious that I wasn’t enjoying my wine as I might normally be. We often say we experienced the “perfect storm” of scenarios where we could keep our girl a secret for so long.
We told a small group of people around eight and a half months pregnant, including our closest friends and family and, of course, your grandparents. (Don’t worry, we have Nana, Grandpa, Grammy & Papa’s reactions on video so we can celebrate that shocking moment forever!) I learned so much through this one-in-a-million experience. I learned what it truly feels like to put my own needs first. I learned what it means to protect someone, even though you weren’t here yet. I learned that my peace was far more valuable to me than I could have ever imagined. After you were born, we sent photos and surprise messages to the rest of our friends and extended family, and damn-near broke the internet with our first photos of you. Sharing our first moments as a family of three, after you had safely arrived into this world, became one of the greatest joys of my life.

We had a big party after you were born, and all of our friends came to meet you. This party was so important to me because I never wanted you to grow up thinking we chose not to celebrate you. We celebrated you in the quiet rejoice of healthy ultrasounds and doctor appointments with perfect heartbeat scans. We celebrated you with shopping carts filled with tiny pink clothes, since a baby girl is what Daddy and I both hoped for. We celebrated you with the surprise-of-a-lifetime announcement to your grandparents that you were coming in less than six weeks. We celebrated you by growing you in calmness, serenity, and peace, which was healthiest for me, meaning it as also healthiest for you.

You were the biggest, and teeniest, surprise of our lives, my girl. And, oh my, do we loudly celebrate you now.

I love you, Jade Vail.

With all the love in my heart,

When I was a child, I was chubby, had a perpetually flushed face, and was the least athletically coordinated human on the planet, or at least the worst at Saint Joseph School. In the nine years I attended Catholic school, wearing plaid skirts, knee socks, and black Oxford shoes, I can fondly remember playing with my friends and excelling in academics. But I also remember my struggles. I think about the advice I wish I had, and the advice I hope to pass on to my daughter. I wish I knew that what is written on your report card doesn’t matter in adulthood. I wish I knew that most of my classmates were feeling just as awkward as I was. I wish I knew that they made lasers for red cheeks that burned brighter than the fire of a thousand suns. I wish I had these gems of knowledge tucked in my back pocket, or more accurately, tucked in the elastic band of my knee socks. So here it is: the advice I would tell my younger self. Listen up, Little Jessica.

1. Get comfortable saying “No.”
“No” is the most powerful word in the English language. When you say “No,” it doesn’t mean you don’t want to help, that you don’t care about the needs of others, or that you dislike someone. “No” is putting your needs first, and not over-committing to everyone else’s requests. “No” is setting boundaries that you are comfortable with, and acknowledging that it is not your responsibility to make everyone else happy. “No” is asserting yourself to not be coerced into actions, thoughts, or beliefs that don’t suit you. “No” is a part of life, and a freeing part, at that. So say it to the playdates you don’t want. Say it to the group member who won’t do their share of the work. Say it to the lunch lady who gave you mashed potatoes when you asked for fries. Say it kindly. Say it confidently. Say it with respect. But you must learn to say it.

2. If you believe you can’t, then you’re right, you can’t.
One of the greatest tools I have discovered is the ability to manifest, which is the ability to create ideas into reality. You can literally speak your every desire into existence. New cars, healthy relationships, even a cup of coffee. I do it every day. Manifesting is the greatest key to unlocking every hope and dream you have for your life: but you must believe. So make sure your attitude is one of gratitude. Count your blessings. Literally count them. I list 10 things I am thankful for every night before bed. The more you’re thankful for, the more you find you have to be thankful for. The big things, the little things, the seemingly insignificant things. Be thankful for passing your spelling test, the butterfly you saw during recess, or for arriving safely home from school. Being thankful and appreciative is a critical component in the positive attitude that creates continued blessings. So count up those blessings, and manifest a few more while you’re at it.

3. Know your worth.
This is the hardest for me, as it seems to be for many of us. If you asked people what it means to know their worth, they may all have very different answers. For me, it means realizing that you are deserving of respect. It’s having the self-confidence to be able to walk away from a toxic person or situation because you know that you deserve better. You have the ability to determine your worth in every situation: with your friends, your family, and one day at your job or in a relationship. Acknowledging that you are worthy of respect is the greatest gift you can give yourself, and it is truly the gift that keeps on giving. You will walk a little taller and speak a little louder because you have the confidence of self-worth. Remember, you are deserving of all the blessings life has to offer, because you are worthy of receiving them.

It’s hard to be a kid. You’re always told what to do and how to do it. Sit down. Stop talking. Stand in line. Don’t touch that. Play with these people. Kick a dodgeball like you have any athletic ability whatsoever. I’m sure today’s kids have it harder in a world of iPhones, TikTok, and 9-year-olds with contoured makeup. I thought we had it rough in the late ‘90s, when my greatest envy was my friend with her own phone line. Truthfully, I’m grateful that chapter of my life is over. No more gym class, no more math homework, no more plaid uniforms. To this day, I can’t stomach an Oxford shoe. So when I think of Little Jessica, wading through childhood angst in nine long years of “Catholic plaid,” I want to assure her that there are answers to her problems. All that she worries about, has a solution. I want teach her to be humble, to learn to meditate, to appreciate the power of prayer, to learn to laugh at herself, to wear the sunscreen, and to remember that pooping in a public bathroom is not nearly as mortifying as she thinks it is. But mostly, I want to kiss Little Jessica on her bright red cheeks that she hates so much, and say to her, “Sweetheart, they have lasers for that.”

CLICK HERE TO WRITE ME BACK

I work at a “little old lady” hair salon. My clients, who I lovingly call my “gals,” arrive week after week, hobbling with walkers and canes, for their appointments of washing, blow drying, or setting their hair in rollers. The more I listen to my gals, their stories, their troubles, their favorite memories, I realized one detail: They were not always little old ladies. They were young, vivacious, fascinating individuals with so much to offer the world. They have stories of traveling, or living in other countries. Some had high paying jobs and drove expensive sports cars. Some used to be so fashionable that it pains us to see them in mismatched attire because they don’t have the ability to match their clothes anymore. Many of them can no longer drive, and depend on family for rides. Lots of them have debilitating ailments making their daily tasks challenging and painful. Many have lost their independence, their confidence, and their loved ones. So many of them have lost children, yet continue to carry on. Many more have lost husbands, and have been left to face the world without the love of their lives.

These women truly amaze me.In many ways, these ladies are the lucky ones. They’ve gotten to live into their 70’s, 80’s, and 90’s. I had one gal pass away just shy of her 100th birthday. As I sit here typing this, I have so much life ahead of me to look forward to, and one day I realized a very sobering fact: I am going to be little old lady one day. That is, if I am lucky enough to become elderly. Some of us aren’t that lucky.

I have been out of high school for only 14 years, and I need two hands to count how many of my former classmates have passed away. I’m sure these people had plans. I’m sure there were vacations they were dreaming of taking, jobs they were considering applying for, conversations they wanted to have with loved ones. I think of them as I write this, and I can’t believe these people never got the chance to live a full life.

But if you’re reading this: You’re alive. So go live.

Whether it’s because we could die tomorrow, or we could live to be 100 and push off our plans because we think we have all the time in the world, we all need to do a little more living. Don’t waste your life being with someone who doesn’t make you feel important, appreciated, and loved from your head to your toes. Don’t go along with plans that don’t excite you just to make others happy. Don’t stay at a job that you tolerate because you’re afraid to go for that new position. Don’t squirrel away all your money and never spend a dime on your own enjoyment. Go on vacation. Try a new restaurant. Go biking if that’s your passion. Do whatever brings you joy, especially the physical activities. I don’t see any of my 90-year-old gals riding horses or racing dirt bikes. So do it now while you can.

Planning for your future is important. For many of us, it’s a big part of our financial plans. Living only for today, and short-changing yourself in the long run is about as wise as playing in on-coming traffic while wearing a blindfold. But we can’t plan so much for the future that we completely forget about ourselves right now either. Don’t focus so much on today that you can’t enjoy tomorrow, but don’t focus so much on tomorrow that you can’t enjoy today. My gals at the salon always remind me how lucky I am that can I race to grab the phone, lift heavy boxes delivered with hair products, or even walk down the stairs without holding the railing. They remind me how great my life is right now. My career has given me a unique and fantastically real view of what is to come for many of us, and I do not intend to waste it.

Our lives aren’t going to be like this forever. So why wait? We may push things off so much that the opportunities we thought we had, have all but come and gone. Look at your Bucket List. What’s on it? Is it traveling places? Climbing a volcano in Hawaii, visiting the Coliseum, or driving cross-country in an RV? Is it doing activities you rarely get the chance to do? Riding horses on the beach, swimming with dolphins, or even dying your hair purple? Is it spending more time with loved ones? Helping coach your kids’ soccer team, spending a weekend skiing with your spouse, or going on girls’ trip with your mom?

We only have a certain amount of time in our lives to do these, and none of us know exactly how much time that is. So do it. Stop wasting time. Stop pushing it off. If you can’t afford if right now, save for it. Plan for it in 5 years, not 25 years. Don’t assume life is going to go as planned and you have “plenty of time” to achieve these, because what if you don’t? Are you going to be laying on your death bed wishing you had spent more time at the office or mopped your floors more often? We can always come up with excuses for why we need to work all weekend, why we should put off that dream vacation for another few years, and why we’ll just plain “do it tomorrow.” But tomorrow isn’t promised. We can’t keep pushing everything off. If you’re lucky enough to live into your 90’s, are you going to look back on your life filled with amazing memories and experiences? Or are you going to look back and wish you had spent your life actually living?