Meredith’s Musings | May She Be Wild

article by MEREDITH MCKINNIE

In 2017, I wrote a letter to my then newborn daughter. Witnessing my dreams for her manifest is the honor of my life…

We named you Wilder Reese. The elders comment on how pretty the name Reese is. But I’m in love with your first name, Wilder…it’s everything I hope you will be. I want you to be wild, because your mother is not wild enough. My impulse is to play it safe, though I often don’t realize my hesitation until too late. I want more for you, Baby Bird. I want you to fall harder, bruise easier, learn faster, teach me a thing or two about living free from expectation.

I’m already seeing your wildness. You’ll scream with no abandon. You’ve been changed and fed; you just need to be heard. Being the mother I promised to be, I let you scream, and you eventually soothe yourself. Sometimes a girl just needs to make a little noise. I watch you scream that adorable new baby cry, and I smile at your tenacity. You’re giving it all you’ve got. May you remain wild and never let anyone muffle your battle cry.

When you’re learning to walk, I will let your hand go. I want you to fall, to scrape your knee, to look back at me as if saying, “Mama, you let me fall?” And yes, I always will. I will let you fall until you can pick yourself back up. You are wild, and you will become strong.

When you’re new to your teenage years and feel judged, I want you to marinate in it, to feel all the teenage pain as if your world is over. Then survive it. You may not come to your mother for advice; you may choose to learn on your own. And then never let them hurt you again. You are a wild thing. You will adapt. You will survive. You will overcome. Better to learn who you are in these life moments that don’t matter to better prepare yourself for the moments that do.

Take the chances I never took in adolescence. Don’t stay in one place. There’s too much world to see, too many horizons to behold, too many people to meet, too many cultures to absorb, too many souls to touch. Take your wildness and spread it like wildfire, Baby Girl. Teach us how to live by living, in all of its messiness. Live hard; apologize later. Learn by doing. Exhaust your wild soul to its end. Make them envy your willingness to fail. Fall hard every chance you get, because putting the pieces back together shapes your character. I want you to know who you are, what you’re made of, and what you won’t accept. And never compromise your knowing.

And one day, once the pieces start to fit together, have the courage to look your mother in the eye and tell her she’s wrong, that her way of thinking is outdated, that she needs to open her mind. I promise to listen. I can’t promise to receive it well, but I will always listen to you. For my goal as your mother is not to shape how you think, but to teach you to think for yourself. For you are capable; you are able to be and do whatever your heart desires. I don’t say this because it’s popular, but because having lived, I know it to be true.

I named you Wilder so you never forget to be wild, that you never forget what we wanted for you, that you never forget who you are. Be fierce. Make mistakes. And for those mistakes, be better. Your mother always had the words. I want you to muster the will. Make the life you want happen. We will always cheer for you; your Daddy and I, we made you to feel the sunshine on your face, to break the rules, to rewrite the words, to reflect and then respond accordingly.

Show them your wildness. If they shy away from you, they’re not ready. Don’t judge them. Just be more you. Your wildfire is infectious; may you ever be wild, my child.