I hate to see my child cry, but I love holding my crying child. I can barely stand not to hold her while she is crying. When she is hurt I wish that I was hurt instead. I love being the magic that calms her as I kiss away her salty tears.
I hate to see my child sick, but I love holding my sick child. I can barely stand not to hold her while she is sick. It is deep fulfillment to be the one helping her to feel better. I think about her precious helplessness as I keep her sweet nose clean for her.
I hate to see my child tired, but I love holding my tired child. I can barely stand not to hold her while she is tired. When she is tired I sing to her and hold her close, like I would want to be held if I was a tired baby. I feel her body get heavy in my arms as her breathing slows, eyes closed.
I love to see my child happy when she is playing and exploring and doesn’t need to be held. I can barely stand the miracle of her when she is happy, crying, sick or tired. She is a dream come true no matter how she feels. I don’t take one minute with her for granted. I cherish the gift of being her mama.