I can't describe to someone to feeling that comes over me when I look at my son. A feeling that lives inside my body every instance. I know other parents can understand.
A mixture of wonder that I was part in creating this little human being, that I nurture him each day, that he can possibly be and always will be my son.
There is pride. Pride that this little person who once could do nothing more than nurse at my breast and sleep curled in my arms now can go on amusement park rides by himself, tell me his opinion, create games, form sentences...and so forth.
Love--pure, raw, overpowering.
Joy that grows from his joy.
Happiness outside myself.
Satisfaction from his discoveries.
The cherry on this pie of feeling is an overwhelming sense of thankfulness for the opportunity to be a mother and his mother is particular.
It completely baffles me how my life moved to this moment, these days and how it will move further around yet another person. It doesn't seem possible. I'm over my guilt at kicking River off the only child chair. I've become accustomed to the idea of another baby but I haven't yet felt the love I feel for my son, for the daughter I have yet to meet. I know I will and it seems like my body can't possibly contain that much affection.
I imagine two children wedged into this banana plane and I wonder what I did to deserve such a gift as my babies. I knew I always wanted to be a mother. I had no idea it would be this good.
My pregnancy has made me thankful for River in a new way. I look back on my time carrying him inside my body and the two plus years of raising him--all the ways he has grown and I have grown because of him. Time runs too fast. It races away. He'll be a man before I know it. We'll both have been effected by our years rotating each other, but he won't know how much until he holds his own son or daughter in his arms.
I feel as if I have been melted down, reforged, made anew by motherhood. It consumes me and I think that is the way it has to be for me. I'm made better because of it.
To think too far ahead makes me dizzy. I try to live day to day, marveling at our little triumphs and skipping over the tedium and frustrations. Life is too short. Already, another chapter for River and I is almost ended. It won't just be the two of us, just as it hasn't just been Jason and I since a December evening during a brutal ice storm.
I'm looking forward to the next phase of our lives when our family increases again, by one.
A mixture of wonder that I was part in creating this little human being, that I nurture him each day, that he can possibly be and always will be my son.
There is pride. Pride that this little person who once could do nothing more than nurse at my breast and sleep curled in my arms now can go on amusement park rides by himself, tell me his opinion, create games, form sentences...and so forth.
Love--pure, raw, overpowering.
Joy that grows from his joy.
Happiness outside myself.
Satisfaction from his discoveries.
The cherry on this pie of feeling is an overwhelming sense of thankfulness for the opportunity to be a mother and his mother is particular.
It completely baffles me how my life moved to this moment, these days and how it will move further around yet another person. It doesn't seem possible. I'm over my guilt at kicking River off the only child chair. I've become accustomed to the idea of another baby but I haven't yet felt the love I feel for my son, for the daughter I have yet to meet. I know I will and it seems like my body can't possibly contain that much affection. I imagine two children wedged into this banana plane and I wonder what I did to deserve such a gift as my babies. I knew I always wanted to be a mother. I had no idea it would be this good. My pregnancy has made me thankful for River in a new way. I look back on my time carrying him inside my body and the two plus years of raising him--all the ways he has grown and I have grown because of him. Time runs too fast. It races away. He'll be a man before I know it. We'll both have been effected by our years rotating each other, but he won't know how much until he holds his own son or daughter in his arms.
I feel as if I have been melted down, reforged, made anew by motherhood. It consumes me and I think that is the way it has to be for me. I'm made better because of it.
To think too far ahead makes me dizzy. I try to live day to day, marveling at our little triumphs and skipping over the tedium and frustrations. Life is too short. Already, another chapter for River and I is almost ended. It won't just be the two of us, just as it hasn't just been Jason and I since a December evening during a brutal ice storm.
I'm looking forward to the next phase of our lives when our family increases again, by one.
Leave a comment