She says she loves me.....I want to know it in my heart without a doubt

I don't know my birth mom.  I think my grandma was my mother figure since she raised me most of my teen years.  Before that?  I think I had a couple of step moms but now I can say that I do not have a fond relationship with any of these women mentioned so far including my current step mom (but it is different now that I am an adult, married and with two kids.).  So if people ask me who my "mother" is, I have to think of my grandma.  To describe the kind of relationship I have with her, I would say there is just not much there.  Let's just say that we have very little in common with each other, there is a huge generational gap, and she does not know God.
So why am I thinking about these things?  I don't know...

I want to have a relationship with my own daughter as what it should look like... affectionate, sweet... respectful... I want her to want to come curl up with me (if this is not exactly how she communicates whatever other ways she does...), cup my face, look into my eyes and say "mom, I need your face."  I want her to want to hear my words, to look into my eyes, to rub her cheeks on mine, say "cheekies..." and grin.

I don't want to sow seeds of resentment, bitterness, anger...in her heart toward her own mother.  I want her to know the pure joy of the mother-daughter relationship.  The glimpses I have seen in others (since I don't have one).  I am not wanting perfection because I have already failed many times and I still will, but I am wanting these things to be the underlying feelings and characteristics--the ones that last and will be passed on, to her own children.  The quiet but powerful positive force.

I was at my parents'/grandparents' house this afternoon with Ari and Ti.  It was a spur of the moment thing--my father came and picked us up.  Everyone was busy carrying on with their daily lives.  The three of us were mostly alone.  It was surprisingly refreshing to be there today.  The crisp weather, the cool wind, the deep green hills surrounding the little town... I tried to nap all three of us but soon realized that it was only me who actually wanted a nap so I put Ti in the Ergo and took Ari for a walk outside.  I kept having flashbacks from last summer when we arrived in Korea and stayed there as I watched Ari playing.  I also had flashbacks from my childhood as we walked through the empty little house where I grew up.  Oh, how small I felt then and how small the house looked today...and how that little town used to be the whole world to me as a little child.  As we walked outside where I used to run around and play as a child, feeling the breeze getting stronger and hearing the rustling noise of the green all around us, it felt as though I was brought there to "make peace" with my childhood... those mostly dark, depressing years.  Then I saw the wind brushing Ari's hair across her precious little face.  She held my hand tight braving it.  It was new, clean wind.  It was strong and yet so gentle.  It was beautiful.  It gave me hope.  It gave me courage.  Sometimes, that's all it takes, I guess.  And sometimes, this is all I can take.