This past year, I not only had a daughter who started altar-serving at Mass, but I also had a daughter who started reading at Mass. If our first daughter is very much like her mother, our second daughter is the complete opposite — and I love her for it. This difference in personalities has both invited me to love my daughter better and inspired me to grow as a person.

When my youngest daughter was born, it didn't take us long to realize that she was different from our first daughter. In her infancy, it was adorable; she giggled, cooed, and extrovert-ed her way into our hearts with undeniable sweetness. As she became a toddler and then a preschooler, however, I became increasingly uncomfortable.

It became apparent just how feminine she was. Every female stereotype imaginable entered our lives: a preference for dresses, tea time, mirroring others as a form of agreeableness, overly dramatic giggling, a love of pink, dancing, singing, more dresses, dolls, and a sort of cloying sweetness.

It was a difficult transition for me. I felt like I was losing my baby girl and gaining a pinkalicious stranger. I didn’t understand who she was or where these qualities came from, because I had never been that sort of girl. I had to face the truth that this was who she was — no conditioning, no suggestion. All girl. All day. All who God made her to be.

What was I going to do?

I knew I wouldn’t force my daughter to be someone she is not. I strive to encounter all of my children in their God-given uniqueness, but I also felt myself drifting from her, even avoiding her at times when I couldn’t endure her endless conversation or imploring gaze. This even translated to her physical touch. I would (and still do) call it a “squoogy”: a squirming sort of snuggle that gets under my skin. It’s one thing to rest your head on someone’s shoulder; it’s another to snuggle in such a way that you can’t quite sit still.

Living in Intimate Community

I didn’t want this aversion to my daughter to continue. She deserves to receive all of her mother’s love, but I was overwhelmed and didn’t know where to begin. How do you live with your opposite in intimate community? How do you stop yourself from having a favorite child by default because you avoid the other? More importantly, how do you prevent emotionally-charged overindulgence or tyranny in your parental responsibilities?

I started by paying attention to when I had the strongest reactions to my daughter. What did these moments remind me of that I had ignored? What stream of consciousness did they awaken? This line of thought led me to examine why I had consistently enjoyed friendships with women less than friendships with men. I realized that I always felt like I had to put more effort into the former. There seemed to be unwritten rules of (for lack of a better word) mutual grooming through choice of words, dress, and actions that a woman was just supposed to know and care about. Unfortunately, I never got the memo.

There seemed to be unwritten rules that a woman was just supposed to know and care about. Unfortunately, I never got the memo.

I recognized that I had developed pride in myself as a defense against another woman’s judgmental gaze when I didn’t meet her expectations. Even though I spouted that God gives a variety of gifts for a variety of purposes, I chose to value intelligence over beauty, truth over charm, and pragmatic efficiency over feminine ritual. I could understand that these preferences sprang from my own natural talents, but they later solidified into an unhealthy bias. The first step in strengthening my relationship with my daughter, then, was becoming aware of these truths and acknowledging their influence on my heart.

Loving in Small Ways

How could I start showing more love toward her in small ways? I began with one specific effort, but over the years, I gradually thought of more.

It started at bedtime. My youngest daughter likes to talk (a lot) about things that I don’t find interesting. When putting her to bed, I usually encouraged her to be quiet, do her song, and pray — and then I headed out the door. One day, I wondered, “What would happen if I lingered with her for a little while?” At first, it was difficult, but I willed myself to listen and, in time, I began interjecting with genuine curiosity.

Then, I turned to making dresses for her to show that I valued her femininity, as expressed in dresses. This activity spilled over into making dresses for my older daughter. Without my youngest's desire for dresses, I wouldn’t have made the effort, and making this effort encouraged my oldest to also value her more feminine side.

Given the “squoogy” problem, I knew that I actively avoided being touched by one of my children. To combat this behavior, I started initiating comfortable contact, and I made it universal. Anyone who wanted a morning hug could have one, but I made a point to seek out my youngest daughter so that she felt special and sought-after. It benefited the whole family: everyone received more hugs, and my daughter was less likely to initiate “squoogy cuddling” later, because her touch tank was more full.

I then turned to redirecting unhealthy parroting and mirroring. It's OK to mirror a little; it can be a great conversation technique, like a dash of salt added to a great stew. Left unchecked, however, excessive mirroring makes a person too compliant and submissive, just as too much salt spoils the stew. By placing value on things that my daughter values and redirecting her from mirroring others too much, I sought to teach her to ground herself in her own identity. Because I had discerned when I unfairly reacted to my daughter and when my reactions were reasonable, I had the confidence to redirect what I believe are habits that won’t serve her well. And this doesn’t squelch her feminine identity; it strengthens it.

By placing value on things that my daughter values and redirecting her from mirroring others too much, I sought to teach her to ground herself in her own identity.

Recognizing Feminine Beauty

Finally, I showed my daughter healthy examples of feminine beauty that are rooted in depth of character, class, and strength. Just as there’s a cheap version of entertainment, there’s a cheap representation of femininity based on shallow exaggerations. Being shallow isn’t evil; by definition, it’s just not deep enough.

These efforts with my youngest daughter even translated into learning how to better love other women around me, including my oldest daughter.

First, I reengaged several friendships that I had allowed to go dormant. And while it’s still not my strong suit, I have more patience for my “opposites” in the broader world, because I practiced patience out of love for my daughter.

Second, these efforts helped my older daughter come to peace with her feminine side much earlier than I did in my own life. Her younger sister inspires her to express her femininity in ways she might not have pursued otherwise. They talk, giggle, and play together in a way that my oldest would never do on her own or outside of our home.

Third, in striving to love my youngest, I discovered a truth that otherwise might not have occured to me. It may be elementary to others, but it was mind-blowing to me. When I was more resistant to my daughter, I thought of her as shallow, but I was mistaken. What I didn’t realize is that I was thinking about what it would be like if I were to act like she did. It would be shallow for me to don her particular expressions and preferences, because it wouldn’t be true to who I really am. But for my youngest daughter, it is her genuine self. What if her gift is the joy that she brings through loving the small, beautiful things in life? It doesn’t take much to make her happy. It doesn’t take much for her to make a new best friend. I can’t do these things without exerting a significant amount of effort. But for my daughter, it is who God made her to be, in the depth of her soul.

Loving Her the Way She Needs

My job as her parent isn't to squelch or judge her personality but, rather, to form her person well. I am here to give her as much depth and support as possible. I correct her when she acts selfishly. I calm her down when she bursts into tears. I strive to make sure she knows that she is deeply loved — and, also, that she is not the center of the universe.

None of this means our relationship is perfect or that I’m Mommy of the Year. However, it does mean that I’m working to move toward my daughter and not allow apathy, fear, or the inevitable entropy of life drive us apart. It feels almost miraculous that I can go from being resistant and judgmental to understanding and loving — just by practicing small efforts. It feels inconsequential at times, but I think it will make a difference for her. And maybe that’s a big part of what love really is: making the effort to love someone in the way she needs, and not necessarily in ways that make sense to us.

Maybe that’s a big part of what love really is: making the effort to love someone in the way she needs, and not necessarily in ways that make sense to us.

As you reflect on your own goals and resolutions, I encourage you to look at the relationships in your life. If you have a child or another loved one who is particularly difficult for you to love, please take the time to dig a little deeper within yourself. You might find that you need to finish building an abandoned, broken, or burned bridge in your soul, wherever you left off, for whatever reason you left off. Finish building that bridge so that your child can walk across it. It’s sometimes scary (and annoying), but when you do the work and notice your relationship with your children change for the better, you realize how much it’s worth it.