Thursday, August 21, 2014
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
Monday, August 18, 2014
We rewatched Good Will Hunting last night in honor of Robin Williams. It's the little things, he said, the idiosyncracies, the annoying things, that made his wife his wife. And I remembered that today as I changed my son's diapers after he pooped. If I'm only there for the good times, the milestones, the big things, the happy events, I might be a relative or a family friend, but it's the nappy changes, the cries in the middle of the night, the tantrums, the messes that make me a mother.
Thursday, August 14, 2014
It's a bittersweet time for me. On one hand, I am immensely proud and happy with how he has turned out. He is a delightful kid -- smart, observant, insightful, caring, compassionate. He's also sipat and stubborn and he can be quite a handful, especially at this age, but I adore him even for that. I think my most proud moments are not when he recites his ABCs or 123s, not when he names colors or shapes, not when he spells out his full name. It's when he says "please," "thank you," "excuse me," and "I'm sorry." It's when he reminds me to eat, gives me a spontaneous hug, and does other sweet things. Everyday, I realize how blessed I am to have a good son.
I can't help but grieve for him though. Having grown up in a complete, loving family, I know what he is missing, even if he doesn't know it yet. I know the kind of life he could have had, the life that was stolen from him. And even now, I can't wrap my head around the remorseless selfishness of stealing -- and continuing to steal -- a little boy's parent. I can't understand what kind of people would compromise a child's entire life. The truth is, I've realized that I'm actually better off without a husband, and that's not what I long for. What I long for is for my son to have a father, a good father.
And that's the one thing I can't give him for his birthday.
Tomorrow, I will celebrate and not give an inch to sadness. But tonight I will mourn a little for what could have been -- not for me, but for my son.