Mother Meditations

In the evenings, when I walk into my bedroom to get my pjs, I walk over to stand by Jamie's bedside and gaze at his sleeping face. My heart catches in my throat at the sight of his precious face; so still, so peaceful, so breathtakingly beautiful. After the events of this year, I have a newly awakened sense of the fragility of life and as I watch his sleeping face, looking half-afraid for the steady rise and fall of his chest, barely moving in the light breath of sleep, I can feel just how close to the edge we walk as parents.

To be a parent is to forever have your heart walking around outside of your body.

So true. My heart is sleeping there in that little cot by my bed. And in the bunk beds in the next room over, two more... In sleep, each one of them is a picture of perfect innocence. All the strife and struggle of the day wiped clean, my heart (the one still in my own chest) remembers how deeply I love them. Behind all the hustlebustle of the day, behind the struggle to teach and train and guide, the two of them are so deeply, deeply planted into my heart.

With Jamie, the planting is still new and fresh, the roots diving deeper in every day. This time around, I'm so much more aware of the process. I can feel every smile, every half-laugh, every sweet breath tying a thousand strings around my life. I'm all tangled up in him... in just three short months. It happens so fast and so thoroughly, this falling in love with my children. No matter how long a time I am granted with them, they have changed me forever, each in their own way.