To Leona (From Noella, with Love)

Noella M. Lepdung
Real
Published in
5 min readMar 21, 2024

Leona is the pseudonym I chose for my daughter, pending the day when I actually have her.

For context, having a daughter is probably the one thing I want the most in this world. I think it’s an offshoot of having no bio sisters, and somehow the desire for one just kept growing all through my lifetime.

I remember the night Aunty Jemila received the call from the hospital saying that Mummy had just given birth to our last born, and that the baby was a boy. I immediately broke down crying — because my little seven-year-old self had had it up to here with all the brothers. Philip and Joshua were already showing me shege!

My mum had earlier refused to share the results of the ultrasound with me; and when I begged, she’d just told me to make a guess. I started perusing all the baby clothes I saw her buy, and since there was a lot of orange and red, I decided I was finally getting a little sister.

What a nice ela. 🥲

Of course, I grew to love Judah more than my own life — but it never took away the desire for a sister, which morphed into the desire to have a daughter as my mum grew out of her childbearing years.

Among the songs I love the most in the world are songs written by mothers for their daughters — Blue by Beyonce, Sing To Me by Jhene Aiko, and my absolute fave, Nothing Feels Better Than Loving You by Victoria Monet. Also, one of my best shows ever is Gilmore Girls; which takes us through the complexities of the mother-daughter relationship between Lorelai and Rory, and that of Emily and Lorelai.

So you see — I consume a lot of mother-daughter content, but my love is rooted way further than that. It’s rooted in the past, it flourishes now and it’ll bear fruit in the future.

I’ve written to Leona multiple times in my journal, but today it occurred to me that I’d never really written to her here, and that it just made sense to do so. So, here we go.

Baby girl, I love you so much already that I could cry. I think about you all the time; so much so that considering you is such an important part of who I am, and the way I live.

I know that someday you’ll ask me to tell you all about my life — how I went through school and my early work life, and how I figured out my faith and relationships with people. I know you may take many of my stories as a roadmap to either show you how to live life and navigate situations as a young woman, or as a cautionary tale for the outcomes you personally want to avoid.

And so I think about you when I make decisions. I think of all (or ideally, both) of my children — but I think especially of you when making decisions because you will be a woman just like me; perhaps with a similar set of challenges as I have had to face.

Because of you, I’m willing to show bravery. Bravery in walking away from whatever’s not right for me, because one day I’ll have to advise you to make hard choices for your own good — and beyond the cho-cho-cho, I want to be able to show workings. I’m willing to work super hard and rack up accomplishments, so that one day I can show you how far I have come by applying myself. I want you to be immensely proud of your Mummy, just as I am of your grandma — the most beautiful and excellent woman to ever walk this Earth (What a coincidence that her middle name is Excèlle!)

I am willing to work hard on my relationships; with God and with everyone around me, so that you have an idea of how healthy relations look in every sense. I’m willing to put in the time and effort to choose your father wisely; so I don’t settle on a man who can’t love you just like my Daddy loves me. I’m willing to find answers to all of the questions that plague me everyday — about life, men, Scripture, people, career, philosophy, art, feelings and body image — because I know someday you’ll depend on me to provide you with answers.

I promise that when I ask you to learn to love yourself, you’ll see an example in me. Since you’ll probably inherit my features, I’ll make sure you see me love myself fiercely. I’ll never show disdain for my skin colour or hair texture; and if (or when) I deal with body image issues, I will make sure to manage it in a way that’s healthy and replicable for you.

I cannot wait to introduce you to the things I love — the art, the music, the literature. I can’t wait to blast Nat King Cole’s Rambling Rose from our car windows just how my own Mum still blasts the car horn to Send For Me. I can’t wait to teach you why Ella Fitzgerald was called the First Lady of Song or why her collabs with Satchmo made some of the world’s best music. I can’t wait for you to like Amy Winehouse’s Valerie or laugh at the fact that Scala & Kolacny Brothers is literally a girls’ choir. I can’t wait for you to read Shakespeare’s Troilus and Cressida, and ask me to explain the olden English. I also can’t wait to go gallery-hopping with you. I have a theory that I can visit ten galleries in a day, and I want to test it out with you.

But still — I know you may be nothing like me when you grow up. I was a sweet child with short, choppy hair and a tomboy teenage phase where I rocked a fade; and then I grew up to be a witty adult with a love for long braids, the colour pink and the season of Christmas. But you may be nothing like me. You may hate the things I love, and like the things I don’t. So I have to put my mini-me fantasies to the side and fully understand that you’ll be a complete human being of your own; very much separate from the entity called Noella.

But I’ll love you regardless.

Read this again when you feel like you’ve messed up so bad Mummy couldn’t possibly forgive you—girl, you’re entering into this world so cherished, so wanted and so very beloved. There is nothing you could possibly do to make me love you any less, and I trust you to always remember that.

Much love,

Your Mum.

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