I can't remember wanting to scream all the time... not since my teenage years, at least.
And I mean it when I say that I really sometimes wish the world will just swallow me whole, because it's either that or i'll commit suicide just because I want an end to all the frustrations.
And it's a miracle how I survived all those sleepless nights from before, and how I can get up with you even when I still haven't had any sleep.
And am sick of all the guilt I feel, when I leave you behind for some ME time, when I try to enforce rules, when I have to suffer your tears, when I am not as glamorous looking, or we're not as rich as other parents. And am exhausted with all the worries and fears, always having to second-guess myself, always having to think things through and weigh everything. I am tired of planning around you, your feeding and sleeping times, and what would be of interest to you. Always, I wonder how I am damaging you, what lasting impression and insecurity my parenting brings you.
And I hate having to win you over again and again and again.
Yes, I hate not being able to control you.
And yes, despite all the interesting times of my past, I feel that i've only started really living when I married your father. And despite all the other things I am and could be, being a mother to you trumps every other conceivable purpose I may ever have.
I live to see your smile, to hear you laugh, to watch you unfold. And I relish every proof that you are your own person, with your own quirks and desires and personality. And I cannot enjoy anything new anymore if I can't share it with you, however indirectly. Nothing is beautiful, fantastic, awesome anymore if I can't see it from your eyes.
And you and Pappie make me feel beautiful and perfect, with just a smile.
Nothing will ever beat the privilege of being the one person who makes you feel the world is alright. And introducing you to the world around you, guiding your learning, encouraging your passions... that brings back innocence in my life and allows me to hope and dream and keep the faith that what I do and who I am is enough. That you are loved and growing up loving is such a worthy cause, and I am privileged to enjoy heaven everyday in your hugs and kisses.
Nothing will ever make me feel more blessed... more rewarded... and trusted. And the everyday struggles all grow blurry in my mind while the memories in my heart take root and take a life all their own.
Happy birthday, my son. And happy birthday to me as a mother too. It's been two years of breastfeeding and nappy changes and staying home and nurturing you full-time. It's also been two years of adventure others can only hope for.
I love you. Thank you for making me Mom.