It's honestly so euphoric, me and my little dude every day. He's constantly running over and hugging and kissing me; playing and laughing with me. It's seriously a dream and I know all-too-well that I'll wake up in 20 years and he'll be off and married and forgotten all about how he completely stole my heart.
It all seems so tragic, in a way, that from day one we form this pure, profound, concrete bond of complete love, friendship, and loyalty, knowing from the beginning that the day will come when he wakes up and forgets all about it. Forgets the sweet words I whispered while rocking him to sleep, how my kiss was the only one in the world that could whisk away the pain of a skinned knee, and how I read his favorite book over and over again just so he could laugh at his favorite part.
And we all know it's going to happen. Yet we do it every time--love completely unconditionally, put everything we have into it, give everything we can and our hearts are left inevitably broken.
Well, not broken, I suppose. Just left missing a part of itself that was given away to a perfect little boy.
So why do we do it?
Because it's worth it. And it's worth doing over and over and over again. To be part of this boy's life in some way is my greatest honor and my highest purpose, and it's worth every tragedy and every inevitability.
Every day with him is counted and every day with him is the best day of my life.
What a privilege it is to be called "Mom."
Photo credit to Myra Merrill!