I love having a baby in my life again. Holding my little boy, nuzzling his face and pressing kisses all over his soft cheeks, while he closes his eyes and gurgles in delight, is the best feeling in the world. It leaves me all warm and fuzzy, and slightly dazed.
Every uh and ah is like an arrow, a thud deep in my heart. Sometimes it’s painful, like a choking, binding pressure. It lasts no more than a second, but it takes its toll; it makes me shake my head and realize that I, who at times feel like little more than a girl, am responsible for this life, for this human being, for this person that I produced. It makes the weight of what I have undertaken more ponderous and the joy of every moment more meaningful.
Life can deal us a bitter card sometimes, and we will always carry the burden of sadness and disappointments, but what a blessing it is to rejoice in what is good, to see the light that blots out the darkness. I sometimes feel the absence of loved ones, of the ease of familiarity and the comfort of home, but when the clouds pass, I have the undiluted certainty that life has smiled on me, that I am one of the lucky ones, that regardless of grievances and misfortunes, bitterness would be unpardonable in me, because I have what is most precious: I have love, and I have health. I have safety and happiness. I have two children who smile when they see my face, and a friend to hold my hand throughout the journey.
