To Be A Mother :)
I was unable to get sleep last night. Was thinking about my children and how much I love them. Before having children, I wasn't much for kids. I didnt' understand them much and was too young to care to try. Then I was pregnant with my son...and when he entered the world and I was a mother for the first time, I was in love. I didn't think I could love another child like him, but then I gave birth to my daughter, and I was falling in love all over again. This miracle or motherhood is amazing to me. While my husband is away I have been both mother and father, realizing that I could never replace the real father in their lives. However, I have become to love motherhood all the more. I take pride in knowing that I am the one who tends to their cries, who deals with them when they're misbave (though frustrating it can be), I'm the one who reads to them, furthering their knowledge, I'm the one who makes sure they get food in their tiny tummies, and I'm the one who loves them like no one every could. I make no excuses for that last statement because being a mother is what I truely love. Though there are times I wanna bang my head against the wall or run like a mad woman in the streets because it all seems to much, but I am the one who's allowed to complain because complain or not, I will always love them. I could never leave them, I could never not be their mother, and by God, I could never imagine my life without their laughter. I remember what my mother once told me, "you may not have a perfectly clean house, but what's more important, spending time with your children or a clean house?" I know the answer to that questions now, memories will carry with them into adulthood, and I want them to remember that mom always loved them.
And to my mommy...thank you, for always being there even when you might have wanted to run screaming down the street. I love you, and I remember every wondeful thing you did for me.
I picture our son now, holding up his hand to reach me, wanting me to touch him. I love it, the look of wanting in his eyes. He’s the most beautiful gift I have ever been given. I think to the future when I’ll be old and weak. He’ll be strong then, stronger than me and I wonder if he’ll feel the same when I hold out my hand to touch him, wanting to feel him near. For now I watch him sleep, when I leave the room I say it, I tell no one that I love him so much. It hurts; I never thought it could hurt so much, to love another human being. The inability to get enough of him is overwhelming at times. It’s not enough; sometimes it’s not enough. I love him, dear God, I love him.