Saturday, March 12, 2011


I can hear him breathing in the other room.

The sound is like no other. It fills me with relief, and at the same time, with terror. How on earth did I end up being someone's mother? Why did we think we could do this? And why is he so precious, is it to make me want him even though I am obviously not cut out for this?

I don't trust myself. I am worried that I won't be able to do what's necessary, if the time ever comes, and take care of him. I'm scared. My own breath comes more quickly, trying to quell the panic.

But I love him. I just don't know that that love is enough. I think it is. I hope it is. But the thought that it isn't... that's the worst thought of all.

1 comment:

  1. A professor once told me "Keeping a journal reminds me of all the people I used to be." You will get through this. I'm so proud of you for writing all of this out. Hugs!