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Friday, September 28, 2012

I Love You

“Nothing you do for children is ever wasted.” ― Garrison Keillor

What does it do to my heart, how do I feel both wrung out like a sponge and full to bursting like a water balloon when she says I Love You to me?  When other people say they love me, I feel warm, grateful, happy, accepted, but when she says it, it's like 50 Hallmark commercials in my heart.  Every time, I want to cry and laugh and shout I LOVE YOU, TOO like a trumpet blast.

Is it because this wriggly little human that I somehow grew in my abdomen has required so much of me, has drained me utterly every day since she was born, is it because I have loved her more than I thought was possible, that her words affect me this way?  Is it because she will never, ever know, until she has a child of her own, how much sleep, relaxation, and quiet happiness I gave up to make sure she was fed and warm and loved?

I don't know why it affects me the way it does, why I am so typically-mommy-sad-and-happy-at-the-same-time, I really don't.  All I know is when she says she loves me, even just when she's pretending it's bedtime and I'm tucking her in, so it's all a part of her pretend play, even then, my heart seems to both seize up and grow three sizes.  I love you, too, sunshine of my heart, in more ways than you will know for a very long time.


3 comments:

  1. When Susannah was born, my dad told me "now you will know how much I love you"... it's so true!

    ReplyDelete
  2. When Susannah was born, my dad told me "now you will know how much I love you"... it's so true!

    ReplyDelete
  3. When Susannah was born, my dad told me "now you will know how much I love you"... it's so true!

    ReplyDelete