Ten chubby little toes, perfect for telling stories about piggy’s and their journey to market – or not. Two sweet little arms contentedly wrapped around my middle. One sweet little head resting on my shoulder, softly exhaling warm breath on my neck.
These moments as mother are fleeting.
Today I find myself very conscious of every little move. Each soft touch… each gesture or twinkle of the eye... each silly word or phrase. All the while, trying to hide my fragility, telling myself to quiet my mind. Telling myself not to think about “what if…”
Today I can’t help but place myself in the shoes of another mother. One who lost her own child of 25 years... her baby. How can she breathe? How can she feel? What does her world look like in the darkness? I’m thanking God that this isn’t my reality, and feeling guilty the whole while… feeling broken for her and other mothers whose bourdon of loss is stark and real and painful.
I won’t live forever in “what if…” but today that’s just where I am. I’m letting “what if…” be the reason for inspecting toes and reading extra stories and being still and quiet and loving my children to the fullest extent of my being… because these moments as mother are fleeting.