I didn't know what it meant, the honour it held. I was unaware, as so many are in the beginning, during conception and the days of endless growth. I held my belly once, convinced I understood, I thought I was prepared. I made plans, I bought necessities, I waited. He came into my world and I gave him a name. I spent months pouring through books, browsing different websites, looking over countless meanings. It's so important to pick the right one. It should define who he'll become, or so I believed. I see now it defines what I imagine he should become. Bold, and brilliant, angelic, and awesome. A mother's future lies intertwined, unwavering, forever with her children's and as such a million day dreams, an infinite number of hopes lies within her. It's hard to see the person they are when their future shines so bright and is filled with endless possibility. And then somehow, they become separate from you...somehow they break free.
My oldest child, my first born son, took his first step before his first word. His smile is more than memorized, it's embedded within my soul. The sound of his laughter, the gait of his walk, the way he flaps his hands when he's excited. I know it all. I live and breathe him.
He's small, and young, but a big boy. He has his pride, he's potty trained. He takes care of his siblings, and can stand on his head. He winks with both eyes, and loves to make people laugh. He can "do it himself" and isn't "A baby, mom" but he still sleeps with a blanket at night and needs a night light to extinguish the monsters in the dark. He cries for me when he's hurt, and believes a kiss can make him better. When no ones looking he asks me to sing "Baby Mine", and so I do...just as I did the day he was born, when he looked at me and I knew...
that I didn't know a thing about love before him.
A mother's love is so intense that it dwarfs everything she is, while simultaneously becoming everything she is. It's beautiful, so sacred. But it's terrifying. Because the world is a cruel place, and sometimes nightmares occur. Nightmares so wicked that only a mother knows that the love we surrender too, will surely destroy us, change us, warp us into shells of the person we were, if ever that nightmare becomes a reality. If ever we lose the one person we cannot live without.
She's waiting and hurting, and loving you more than ever. Her perfectly beautiful, three year old boy. I know how she loves him, I love my own just the same, and so I ache for her.