You Are My I Love You

I wasn't a little girl who played with dolls. I never particularly liked playing house and I didn't spend much time as an adolescent thinking of future children or choosing their names. Sure I thought babies were cute and kids were - for the most part - fun, but I was never crazy obsessed with having one. There were even times during our journey to have a child that I wondered if we should persevere; after all, I was happy with my marriage, my job, my friends, with having Cearra in my life, and being able to travel or just sit and read a book. My life was good.

Forward to now. In the last two months I've cradled a crying baby in my arms in the middle of the night and given up my much loved weekend sleep-in, lazy mornings. My hair is usually in a ponytail, my clothes are usually wet with drool (or worse). I can still read magazines but there's not enough time for books. Laundry is endless; as is cleaning up and washing bottles. Some days I miss work and I always miss my paycheck. My back hurts, my arms hurt, my shoulder aches. I've broken nails trying to work the *$&#@ car seat and gone to war with the high chair tray. A big trip (and accomplishment) is getting to the grocery store and back in between nap time and meal time. My life is so different.

And it's worth every tiring, frustrating moment when Owen smiles at me, and learns something new everyday, and laughs when I tickle him, and snuggles into my neck as I hold him. Many days I am brought to tears by how much and how deeply I love him. I am so blessed and so very thankful that this girl who didn't know how much it would mean has the chance to be this mom who does.

My dear, dear friend Amy gave me a book that I can't read without crying, for it so perfectly puts into words all that Owen is to me and that I hope to be to him ...

I am your parent; you are my child. I am your quiet place; you are my wild.

I am your calm face; you are my giggle. I am your wait; you are my wiggle.

I am your carriage ride; you are my king.

I am your push; you are my swing.

I am your audience; you are my clown. I am your London Bridge; you are my falling down.

I am your carrot sticks; you are my licorice. I am your dandelion; you are my first wish.

I am your water wings; you are my deep. I am your open arms; you are my running leap.

I am your way home; you are my new path.

I am your dry towel; you are my wet bath.

I am your dinner; you are my chocolate cake. I am your bedtime; you are my wide awake.

I am your finish line; you are my race. I am your praying hands; you are my saying grace.

I am your favorite book; you are my new lines. I am your night-light; you are my starshine.

I am your lullaby; you are my peekaboo.

I am your good night kiss; you are my I love you.

"You Are My I Love You" by Maryann K. Cusimano