Tonight as I leaned over Jack's crib and put my hand firmly on his belly, it hit me. You once did this to me. I am sure there was another level of exhaustion considering I was your third and final blood line, but I can picture you bent over my crib with your hand on my belly telling me "I love you so much."
Was it different me being a girl? Was it hard knowing I would one day grow up and be able to make my own choices and make my own way courageously through the world? Did it hurt you like it hurts me to think of the first time a kid will put Jack down...to think of the heartbreak it will cause the first time his innocence is temporarily robbed due to some kid saying something stupid? Did it cause an irreversible lump in your throat like it causes me to think of the day you would have to introduce me to the world's imperfections?
How did you explain that to me the day I came home and told you those girls on the playground wouldn't let me in their stupid club? I remember that day and I remember the way you took my hand and told me I didn't need those girls...I needed friends who loved an accepted everyone. You told me to go to recess the next day and ignore those girls with my head held high. And I did. And I found friends who loved and accepted everyone. I still have those friends.
Did it bring you to tears like it brings me to at this exact moment to think of the day I would realize the world isn't made up of brightly colored Fisher Price toys?
Here's the thing, Mom...it breaks my heart to know Jack will have to learn the ways of he world, but that day on the playground...that day was the foundation to push me through every other temporary disappointment. And you're the one who rose me above it. You're the one who pushed me out the front day the next door and gave me the courage to face my fear of failure. You're still the one.
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