It was hard. And I was afraid. Not as much in the beginning; there was only excitement then. But as time went on. It was more about silly things, but they did seem real at the time. When would it end? Why do I feel as though I’m not even here, but merely looking down on myself. It now reminds me of a story that I read to you, about two “scaredy cats…who began to wonder and worry about scary things”…
But I was also afraid for you. Where were you?
To be honest, it’s hard to recall what it felt like the first time I held you. I was beyond exhausted, barely there. But I remember relief at seeing your daddy holding you close, and I knew you were alright. I’ve never seen him like that before. So proud, so relieved, so in awe.
It was there, in the hospital, that I began to feel what it is that I suppose all mothers feel. I have never felt that way before. I could try to describe it, but I am sure that any words could ever be enough.
I can tell you that later on, there were some days when I would look at you and cry. It has been hard knowing I would have to fight to give you all that I wanted to. And my dear, I want you to have it all.
I don’t mean the material things. I want you to have your share of those too, but I want you to know the important things in life. I want you to know joy in the small and simplest of things. I want you to know the meaning of love, and carefree abandon. I want you to know the rewards of fighting to see something through, but I never want you to suffer. I want you to know innocence for as long as I can protect it. I want you to know safety, freedom, and home. I want you to know every good feeling – from the thrill of a breakaway, to the calm of laying in the sand. I want you to know opportunity. I want you to see the world.
Sometimes, it is still hard. The timing of all that has happened has not always worked in our favor. It used to bother me on occasion, because of how much I care for you and how badly I want your happiness. Until, one day, a realization came to me:
If everything had not happened the way it did, and you had not come into being at that very moment, you would not be you. I would have never known you. And that, love, would have been a great loss.
I need you to know that I would not change it for the world. I need you to know that I love you, my son, with all of my heart. I am determined to give you the best of this world. As cliche as it is, I can truly say that while it has not always been easy, it has always been – will always be – worth it.
But I was also afraid for you. Where were you?
To be honest, it’s hard to recall what it felt like the first time I held you. I was beyond exhausted, barely there. But I remember relief at seeing your daddy holding you close, and I knew you were alright. I’ve never seen him like that before. So proud, so relieved, so in awe.
It was there, in the hospital, that I began to feel what it is that I suppose all mothers feel. I have never felt that way before. I could try to describe it, but I am sure that any words could ever be enough.
I can tell you that later on, there were some days when I would look at you and cry. It has been hard knowing I would have to fight to give you all that I wanted to. And my dear, I want you to have it all.
I don’t mean the material things. I want you to have your share of those too, but I want you to know the important things in life. I want you to know joy in the small and simplest of things. I want you to know the meaning of love, and carefree abandon. I want you to know the rewards of fighting to see something through, but I never want you to suffer. I want you to know innocence for as long as I can protect it. I want you to know safety, freedom, and home. I want you to know every good feeling – from the thrill of a breakaway, to the calm of laying in the sand. I want you to know opportunity. I want you to see the world.
Sometimes, it is still hard. The timing of all that has happened has not always worked in our favor. It used to bother me on occasion, because of how much I care for you and how badly I want your happiness. Until, one day, a realization came to me:
If everything had not happened the way it did, and you had not come into being at that very moment, you would not be you. I would have never known you. And that, love, would have been a great loss.
I need you to know that I would not change it for the world. I need you to know that I love you, my son, with all of my heart. I am determined to give you the best of this world. As cliche as it is, I can truly say that while it has not always been easy, it has always been – will always be – worth it.
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