For every mom out there


A sweet and kind friend sent this to me yesterday.

IMG_3066.PNG
And of course I cried… like a baby. My sweet and kind friend always has a way of putting things into perspective for me.

She always has.

Shortly after Willy was born, we were going through a tough time with him. Willy had horrible reflux and colic, and when he wasn’t sleeping he was screaming. And sometimes he would scream in his sleep. It was so sad to see my baby in such pain, but it was my sweet and kind friend that made me remember what my purpose was. My purpose was to protect, love, and care for my baby boy, and even though we were going through trying time, she remind me that it wouldn’t last forever. The crying would eventually stop, The colic would go away, his reflux medicine would kick in, and I would sleep better at night knowing that my baby was feeling better and in less pain.

And yes… I cried, because that’s what I do. I cry. For better or for worse, crying has always been my outlet. I cry when I’m happy, I cried when I’m sad, and I cry when I have an overwhelming sense of emotion. Sometimes I wish I cried a lot less, and could be more firm with my emotions, but since I come from a long line of criers, I’m just going to have to let this one go and deal with it the best I can

My grandmother told me so.

So when I became a mom, I started to cry less… no that’s a lie. I started to cry more; mostly happy tears but that’s besides the point. The point is, is that when I look at my child, I feel like I’m looking at a little male version of myself when I was his age… sans the afro. And I wonder what he’s going to be like when he grows up. He has a lot of my traits but he has a lot of my husbands as well; mannerisms, facial expressions, a hot temper, etc. So when I reread the little poem above that my sweet and kind friend sent me, it makes me wonder about Willy’s ADHD, Autism, and Anxiety. My son IS my wiggle, my goodnight kiss, my wild. but you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way. I am so lucky to wake up every morning and see what the day is going to bring. We never seem to have the same day twice in our house, and I am very okay with that.

My child is unique and quirky, but one thing is for sure. He is a loved little boy. He is my “wild, my giggle, and my chocolate cake.” And I am his “quiet place, his calm face, and his lullaby.”

Always and forever.