Raising a Soft Girl in a Hard World. A Letter From a Mom Who Is Figuring It Out Too

I look at my daughter sometimes and feel a fear so specific I cannot always name it.

Not the general fear of motherhood but the worry that comes standard with the role. Something more precise than that. Something that lives in the particular softness of who she is.

She is bubbly and loud and big-hearted and so genuinely kind that sometimes it takes my breath away. She is a gamer who started a gaming blog for girls because the gaming world kept forgetting they existed. She is tall and skinny and completely unbothered by what she looks like until someone in the family decides to make it their business to comment. She is the kind of girl who will give you everything she has and not notice when people are taking advantage of it because her default assumption about people is that they are good.

And I as her mother lie awake sometimes wondering how a girl like that survives a world like this one.

How do I prepare her without hardening her? How do I warn her without frightening her? How do I teach her that her softness is a strength when the world has spent so much energy trying to convince women like her otherwise?

What's In This Post

I do not have all the answers. But I am her mother. And figuring it out imperfectly, honestly, every single day that is the most important work I have ever done.

Read related post: A Letter to My Daughter on Her Sweet 16

The Daughter I Did Not Know I Would Get

When I imagined becoming a mother I did not imagine her specifically. I just imagined a child I would love.

What I got was her. This specific, irreplaceable, slightly chaotic human who changes her blog colors every time she falls in love with a new aesthetic and whose readers ooh bless them because they do not care even slightly. They just want to read about her headshots.

She is a gamer. Not casually but genuinely. She built a gaming blog for girls because she looked at the gaming world and noticed women were either invisible or unwelcome and she decided, at whatever age she was when she started it, that this was something she could change. With a blog. Like her mother.

I did not teach her that. She arrived at it herself.

She is louder than people expect. Taller than people expect. Skinnier than certain family members feel they have the right to comment on of which they do not, and I have made that clear more than once and will make it clear again as many times as necessary. You do not break my daughter in front of me. That is not a boundary I negotiate.

She is also softer than the world is prepared for. Softer than I sometimes think is safe. And that softness ,that enormous, generous, completely unguarded heart is simultaneously her greatest gift and my greatest source of fear.

The Fear That Has No Clean Name

Here is the fear I am talking about.

She is going to be hurt by someone who does not deserve her.

I know this the way I know things that have not happened yet but feel inevitable. Not because she is weak because she is not . But because girls with hearts like hers attract people who mistake generosity for endlessness. Who take and take and do not notice they are taking. Who will not recognize what they have until it is gone.

We made an agreement that she will start dating at 17. She agreed to this in the way teenagers agree to things that are not quite real yet. Seventeen feels far away when you are the age she was when we made the agreement. Now it is two years away. And I find myself doing the math differently.

Two years. And then boys and whatever they bring with them will become part of her story.

I am not worried she will make terrible choices. I am worried she will make generous ones. That she will give too much too soon to someone who has not earned it. That her heart will get broken not because she loved the wrong person but because she loved the right way in a world that does not always meet that.

I cannot protect her from heartbreak. I know this. Heartbreak is part of becoming. But I am her mother and knowing something intellectually does not stop the fear from being real.

The Question That Lived Inside Me for Years

For years I asked myself a question I did not say out loud to many people.

Do I love her enough?

Not because I doubted my love. My love for her is the most uncomplicated feeling in my life and my life has had very few uncomplicated feelings. But because I grew up wondering what it felt like to be truly mothered. And if I did not have a clear model of what that looked like , if I was never fully held in the way a daughter needs to be held and how was I supposed to give her what I did not know how to name?

How do you mother someone if you were never really mothered yourself?

I sat with this question for a long time. It was not always a comfortable place to sit.

What I have come to understand slowly, through therapy and journaling and watching her and simply showing up every day and trying is this:

The fact that I ask the question is itself an answer to it.

Mothers who do not love enough do not lie awake worrying about whether they love enough. They do not examine their own childhood and try to identify the gaps so they can fill them differently. They do not fight family members who make unkind comments about their daughter’s body. They do not drive the gaming blog and sit in the office over summer holidays and work side by side because they want their daughter to know that women build things.

I am not a perfect mother. But I am a present one. And I have learned I am still learning that presence is more than I was given and more than enough to begin.

What I Have Had to Fight On Her Behalf

Let me talk about the family comments.

Because they are real and they are damaging and I want other mothers reading this to know they are not alone in navigating them.

She is tall. She is skinny. She is loud. She is passionate about things that certain family members have decided are too masculine ,gaming, tech, not caring about fashion in the way girls are expected to care about fashion.

And somehow this has become acceptable conversation. As if her body is community property. As if her interests are up for committee review. As if the way she moves through the world needs to be adjusted to make other people more comfortable.

It does not.

She is not too skinny. She is not too tall. She is not too loud. She is exactly herself and herself is extraordinary. The family members who cannot see that are the ones who have a problem, not her.

I have had to be deliberate about this. About making sure that whatever she hears outside our home is countered by what she hears inside it. That the comments about her body are met with my voice telling her her body is her own and it is enough. That the raised eyebrows about the gaming are met with me sitting next to her asking her to teach me things I do not understand and watching her light up because she knows something I do not.

This is part of being a present mother. Not just being physically there. Being loudly, clearly, unmistakably on her side.

The Gaming Blog That Started Because Nobody Made Space for Her

She started her gaming blog because the gaming world did not make space for girls.

I want to sit with that for a moment.

She looked at something she loved and noticed that girls like her were either invisible in it or actively unwelcome. And her response at whatever young age she was was not to leave. It was to build a corner of it that was hers. A blog for gaming girls. Because if the space did not exist she would make it.

She changes the branding every time she falls in love with a new color. Her readers do not care. They come back every time because they want to read about her headshots. They found a girl who loves what they love and talks about it without apology and that is enough. That is everything.

I watch her do this and I see myself in it. I built HerDailySpace because I could not find a corner of the internet that felt like it was made for the specific woman I was becoming. She built her blog because she could not find a corner of gaming that felt like it was made for her.

We are more alike than either of us sometimes admits.

And I will be honest, watching your daughter do the thing you do, in her own way, for her own reasons, because she decided on her own that it mattered and that is one of the most specific joys I have ever felt as a mother.

What We Have Built Together

Over summer holidays she sits in my office.

We work on our blogs side by side. She on hers. Me on mine. Sometimes we show each other what we are working on. Sometimes we work in comfortable silence. Sometimes she asks me questions about branding and that is ironic, given how often her branding changes and I try to answer them in a way that is useful without being prescriptive.

We travel together. A lot. She is the reason the first holiday happened because she told me I deserved it and she funded it and she was right. And now travel is part of who we are together. Part of how we see the world and each other.

She has watched me build something from nothing. She has watched me sit at a desk when nothing was working and keep going anyway. She has watched me choose myself when it was hard. She has watched me fight for her in rooms where the people against her were family.

I hope what she has absorbed from watching is this: that women build things. That softness and strength are not opposites. That you are allowed to love gaming and blogging and traveling and having a heart too big for certain rooms. That you do not adjust yourself for people who are uncomfortable with your size literally or otherwise.

And that your mother will always, always be on your side.

What Being a Present Mother Actually Means to Me

I did not have a clear model of present motherhood. So I have had to build my own definition.

For me it looks like this:

It looks like fighting the family comments every single time. Not once, not when I feel like it but every time. Because silence is permission and she is watching what I permit.

It looks like the 17 agreement. Not a rule handed down from authority but a conversation. A real one. Where I told her why and she told me what she thought and we arrived somewhere together.

It looks like sitting in the office over summer instead of somewhere else. Like choosing proximity. Like making sure she knows that whatever I am building I am not building it instead of her but I am building it alongside her.

It looks like asking her to teach me things. About gaming. About her blog. About the things she knows that I do not. Because the relationship between a mother and a daughter should not always move in one direction.

It looks like telling her the truth about hard things. About my father. About my relationship. About the years I spent figuring out how to mother her without a clear map. Because I want her to know that adults figure things out as they go and that is not weakness but it is just life.

It looks like worrying about her. Specifically, precisely, because of who she is. Not generic worry but worry that is shaped exactly like her.

And it looks like writing this post. Because somewhere a mother is reading this and recognizing her own daughter in mine. And maybe that mother needed to know that the question ” do I love her enough, how do I mother someone if I was never mothered ” is one that good mothers ask. Not bad ones.

To My Daughter.Who Will Probably Read This

You change your blog colors every time you fall in love with a new one. Your readers do not care. They come back for you and not the colors.

Remember that when the world tries to tell you that you need to look different, sound different, be different to be worth showing up for.

You do not.

You are already exactly enough. You were enough at whatever age you started that gaming blog. You were enough when the family made their comments and you kept being loud anyway. You were enough on the first trip and every trip since.

You are going to date someone in two years and they are going to be lucky. And if they do not treat you like they are lucky or if they mistake your generosity for endlessness and take without noticing then I need you to know that you are allowed to leave. That your heart being broken does not mean you gave it to the wrong person. Sometimes it just means you loved fully and the other person was not ready for that yet.

You are going to be okay. Better than okay.

And I am going to be right here. Working on my blog while you work on yours. Watching your branding change again. Asking you to explain the headshots.

With all of it. With everything.

Your mom.

For Every Mother Who Is Figuring It Out

If you are reading this and you see yourself in any of it eg in the fear, in the question, in the fighting the family comments, in the trying to mother well without a clear model then this is for you.

You do not have to have been perfectly mothered to mother well. You do not have to have all the answers. You do not have to protect her from everything.

You just have to show up. Specifically, presently, on her side.

That is enough. You are enough.

And your daughter that specific, irreplaceable human you are raising is watching. And what she is seeing in you is teaching her more than you know.

With love,

Nia

FAQ

How do you raise a sensitive daughter in a tough world?

Raising a sensitive daughter requires balancing protection with empowerment. Validate her feelings, fight publicly on her behalf when others make unkind comments, help her build confidence through her interests and make sure she hears your voice affirming her more than she hears the world questioning her.

How do you become a more present mother?

Present motherhood is not about perfection , it is about proximity and intentionality. It means having real conversations, showing up for the specific child you have rather than a general idea of a child, and being willing to examine your own patterns so you do not pass them on unconsciously.

Can you be a good mother if you were not well mothered yourself?

Yes. Many of the most intentional mothers are women who experienced gaps in their own mothering and chose consciously to do things differently. The awareness itself is powerful. Therapy, journaling and community can all help fill in what was missing.

How do you handle family criticism of your child?

Consistently and clearly. Silence in the face of unkind family comments about your child reads as permission. Addressing it every time , calmly but firmly thats sends a clear message both to the family member and to your child about whose side you are on.

Is it normal to worry if you love your child enough?

Yes. Mothers who ask this question are almost always the ones who love deeply. The worry itself is evidence of love. If you are examining your mothering, trying to do better and showing up consistently and you are loving enough.

How do you talk to your teenage daughter about dating?

Start early and make it a conversation rather than a lecture. Share your own experiences honestly and age-appropriately. Set agreements together rather than handing down rules. Focus on helping her understand what she deserves rather than only what to avoid.