There’s a part of me that always knew one day I’d be a mama. That part has existed deep in my heart for as long as I can remember. Perhaps it was an innate desire to raise a child; perhaps it was something cultivated within me as I tended our garden and cared for the land with my parents. I know it was there when I played pretend in the wild grasses alongside Middle Creek, carting baby dolls, stuffed animals, and toy horses up and down the creek banks. It was also there when I opted into environmental history in college, present as I formed an understanding for just how complicated our world really is. It was there when I submitted my fi rst published story at the inception of my freelance writing career.
And it’s still here, now suddenly tangible. I am a mama, a mother to a little girl who, already at 6 months old, is her own little person with opinions, feelings, thoughts, and needs. I’m challenged every day to think about what it means to be her mama and how the way I choose to live will aff ect her life today and every day that follows.
The truth is, I don’t know what I’m doing. I didn’t grow up with siblings and it’s been years since I babysat. I realize I’ve made a subconscious habit of asking every young mother that I know for all the secrets to raising a healthy, happy child: What laundry soap do you use? What baby soap do you use? What were your baby’s first foods? The questions feel urgent, as if we rest on a pendulum and the answer will drive us either toward the path of healthy living or down a trail riddled with blight.
I intend to share the importance of living with connection— connection to land, animals, people, and self.
Sometimes the answers are overwhelming. There are so many different ways to do things and what I’m realizing is that there isn’t one best way to raise a child nor is there one right way to be a mother. Rather than seeking the heralded silver bullet, it’s about setting your intention and following through.
I’m so excited about the opportunity to raise my daughter close to the land and among the animals. Together we’ll plant a garden, she’ll learn to ride a horse, and we’ll pursue wild game. I intend to share the importance of living with connection—connection to land, animals, people, and self.
My daughter has already grown so much—in mind, body, and spirit. And she will continue to grow and blossom. Her heritage is one of ordinary people doing reasonably ordinary things, but that’s precisely what makes it extraordinary. She came from a line of eaters, growers, harvesters, and cooks. (In fact, this heritage is one we all share.) Her Grandpa taught me how to grow tomatoes and her other Grandpa taught both me and her father how to hold a gun. Her Grandma showed me how to can beans and peel beets and her Bomma knows how to make the very best cake—surely, one day, she’ll share her secret ways.
I hope my daughter always remembers this heritage, and that she’ll cling tightly to it as she grows. May she remain connected to the land and what it produces, and enjoy the world’s many flavors. If she does this, then she’ll know where to go when she’s hungry and she’ll respect what it takes to have food.
Jessianne Castle
Editor
