Transforming

I am due in 11 days & counting. I've just begun to think how incredibly surreal this whole process is. I still feel like a baby myself, who could easily pack everything up and move back in with my mom and feel content in the secure bubble that my own mom seems to create wherever she ends up. . . fixing me grill cheese and chocolate milk. I could slowly ease in to this life with no worry or fear. I could forever pretend to be 5, before all of the disappointment and fear, before all of the let downs, before I became timid. I could still to this day, climb into a box and pretend it was a castle – if society would only let me. This is what I hope for my soon to be Baby Boy. I pray that he never feels disappointed in me, I hope that I can always be looked at in the right light by him, that he never catches on too who I really am, that his vision of me is a little hazy and fuzzy and never sharpened. I pray every night to keep him safe and I wonder if this is enough . . .? In the scary world that we live in today, I long for the days of my childhood for him. I long for him too know what it is like to run and run and run until the day lazily turns into dusk and the fireflies finally catch up with you. I would love to be the mother that my mom was, one that didn’t have to worry about where her kids were. She always had faith that we would be ok. She never had to second guess herself about if we were safe. We were always next door playing Capture the Flag or behind our house in the woods running from each other because you never knew who was a Cop or who was a Robber. We all had an innocence growing up, even our parents who had already seen so much, never had to be anxious about where their kids were. I hope this for my Baby Boy, but it is only a wish list that I know won’t be fulfilled. The only true relief I feel is that in our own little world that my Husband and I have created, there will never be a shortage of grilled cheese sandwichs and the chocolate milk is but a glass full away