and not for the reasons you might be thinking---dirty diapers, always cleaning up a mess of some sort, sleepless nights....
But because everything affects you in a much deeper way. Seeing the leaves change, feeling the breeze blow, watching babies on the Johnson and Johnson commercials, hearing stories of loss at too young an age.
I guess you could say I am a 'softie.' I am an emotional person. Maybe, sometimes overly emotional. I cry. A lot.
And when I read a story or hear a song or watch a show about a child that is struggling, or has struggled and lost the good fight, I cry. Tears streaming down my face, ugly cry. I just put on my make-up and now it's ruined ugly cry.
I just read stories about Ronan. I heard his song today for the first time. And while I would be sad and sympathetic 2 years ago, I am deeply affected now. To my core. I get it. Little beings taken away too soon.
A year ago, I wrote a quick post asking y'all to pray for my friend, Heather, whose baby had anencephaly. That sweet little boy lived for 8 precious hours after he was born and I cried. I cried for her. I cried for him.
Not even those that have died, but those little people who get bullied and made fun of. My motherly force wants to protect them and smack some sense into those mean people. Really, I want to love them. Love them all. Because that's all our little babies need. A mama to hug them and tell them it's all going to be alright.
A few months ago, when Brody was at a play gym for his cousin's birthday party, another little boy who was no older than two, I'm sure, started pushing Brody out of the way, knocking him over. Brody went over to something else, and that little boy came over pushed him again. For the first time, I felt it. Really felt it. My mother lion instincts. My blood starting to boil. My protective alarm going off. I almost yelled at this innocent little boy for doing something that he really had no control over. I almost pushed that kid back. HARD. But I just said, "Please stop pushing him. Go find something else to do." Somehow, he understood and walked away. crisis averted Then, I immediately flashed forward to his awkward middle school years and I got scared. How in the world am I going to handle that?! Lord, please protect my son from bullies and crazies. Let him wear his sweat pants without shame!! *SIDENOTE: Brian told me he wore sweat pants every day of his middle school career....poor thing...* Brian and I were both lucky enough to not really get bullied by anyone. I don't really remember the malice that judgmental teens can have. I hope Brody and the rest of my flock can only be so lucky.
I guess being a mom brings on a whole new slew of crap. emotions, worries, responsibilities. Things that I thought had under control, but I really have no idea. I am so thankful for a healthy little boy. And I pray that he stays that way. But, I do think about all those moms that aren't as fortunate. And I cry for them...