Dear Son, I want you to fail this year
Dear Boy, Twelve years ago today you made me a mother. It didn't go at all as I had planned, and dreamed about, your birth, but there you were anyway, with a ridge in your forehead and a cone on the back of your head, and so, very, very fragile and small. For months I had to sleep facing you. My heart just couldn't take the uncertainty of facing the other way, of not watching you sleep and knowing you were ok. My heart filled up with so many feelings when I looked at you. Sometimes they spilled out of my eyes and squeezed my chest so tightly as it learned just how much love it could hold for another person. I would creep into the bedroom if you slept longer than an hour and put my hand on your chest, just to make sure that you were still breathing. I learned everything about being a mom with you. I am still learning. I've never parented a 12 year old before, and you've never been a twelve year old and this year is a whole brand new thing to learn and figure