I’m crying in the kitchen, but I love you. And I still want you in my life!
I want to enjoy mothering, but I feel like a machine.
Yes, I want to enjoy mothering, but I feel like a machine.
And I want to go outside with you, but I don’t know how to get us all there.
You are gold, but the treasure of you feels like weight. . .breathtaking, chest-constricting. Mommy’s still learning how to hold you.
And I love that you’re in my life, but sometimes I can’t see the life inside my days. Don’t worry, mommy has Hope, is asking God for help. He always gives it.
I want to play with you in the water, but mommy is still trying to get out of the deep end. And Mommy hasn’t forgotten how to play. It just takes time for water to be playful again.
And I’ll keep the music going. Mommy can’t wait to dance with you, but she’s healing. And that’s no waltz. But soon. She still remembers the steps.
I love you.
And Mommy is human, but I’m here no matter what.
I am here!
No matter how long it takes for me to laugh in the kitchen instead of cry. Or for the machinery to stop humming while we break free in the great outdoors beneath the sun. No matter how hard it is to hold the weight of gold, or notice the life of life, or come back to shore and splash in the water, and dance to the steps you’ve made up for me.
No matter what.
No matter how long.
I’m human. But I’m here.
And God is here with me.
So, we’re going to be okay.
And pretty soon,
we’re going to be great.
I can’t wait.
Speaking of which. Did you feel that lovely garden breeze? Me too.
It won’t be long now.
All my love and forever here,