“Can you believe…”

So, the only reason I’m here is because I took a sick day. And I have plenty of other things I could/should be doing instead of typing into a blank space.

But I’ve had these same words in my head for literally over 3 months now and feel like I need to finally put them somewhere else. They aren’t even a big deal – or anything maybe worth posting for someone else to see.

In October, I was planning for Brady’s birthday party. Running around on my lunch break to find the perfect outfit, the little tie that was blue plaid with a “1” on it. I was leaving work and saw a family member I don’t see much. I was really just trying to get out to my car to pick him up from day care, and this family member wanted to chat about how Brady was doing. She asked how old he was; was he running around everywhere, etc. And then she asked, “Can you believe” – and I interrupted her because I knew the rest of the question. I’ve been asked it 1,000 times. The questions usually go like this: “Can you believe how fast it goes? Can you believe how big he’s gotten?” So I replied with, “No, I can’t believe it! It’s gone so fast. He’s so big.” The same response I’d programmed myself to say.

And instead, she repeated her question and said, “Can you believe how much you love him?

I honestly don’t even remember what my response was after that. It didn’t knock me over or anything, but here I am, 3 months later, and these words are still ringing. Probably because I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that question before.

I think, more than anything else, what being a mom has shown me is how much God loves me. Which may seem a little backwards. But on the rare occasion when I get to sit back and just watch him play, or learn to say a new word, or sleep, I am so overwhelmed that God would love me enough to bless me with this boy. To be a mom. With a man to help me raise him. More than ever, I’m so aware of women who struggle with having children of their own. It just blows my mind that I am blessed with the little family I have.

I expected to love my son. He’s my child – he was once a physical piece of my body. I think I expected that I would love him in ways I wouldn’t be able to understand. But there are little things I didn’t expect. Like, how he can make me want to scream one minute, and make me laugh within 10 seconds. How much he would teach me about myself. About patience. About love. About responsibility.

I don’t have any profound ideas to share about any of this. I’m just thankful. Thankful for this little question to remind me how much I really do love him. And how wonderful it is at times to be able to sit back and think about why.

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