Laura’s Story

A Mother and her Son

As I lie here cradling my son in my arms,
listening to his near silent and restful breathing,
I think back to a journey two and a half years now past.
Before the formation of words or the stumbling walking.
Before the running and playing,
or the mashed foods and frosting on his first birthday cake.
Before the goo goo's and ga ga's or the late night changings,
I cradled my son just an infant and thought "my life is over".
How can I care for something so small when I'm not even capable of handling a world so big?
I stare in silence. Family coming in and out and here is me and this...thing. I know I'm suppose to feel...something.
And I do. Fear, guilt...confusion.
Who is this?
This is not what I expected to feel...a girl and her child.
Yet, I am not a girl. I am a woman and I have a child.
A journey two and a half years now past and I lie here,
listening to this tiny soft breathing with memories flashing and tears swelling in my eyes.