Monday, 16 May 2011

The Heart of the Matter

All day long, I felt as though someone were playing cat's cradle with my emotions.

I went about my business quietly, whilst emotions raged and roared within, and neither the serenity of our daily routine nor the sweetness of my little one's smiles had the power to quieten the storm.

And only once the day was done and I sat quietly with a year's worth of photographs in front of me, did peace finally find a chink through which to flood my heart.

I poured over the pictures of my boy as a squidgy-sleepy thing, a roly-poly bundle, and an ever-evolving boy, and felt nostalgia swell into delight and delight mellow into joy.

And as I cropped, tweaked and saved the pictures of my beautiful, smiling boy, I realized that all of life's many questions and worries were consumed by the awesome force of my love for this little boy, and that this was the heart of the matter.

I felt the familiar ache inside as my love for him stretched the fibres of my heart, and felt panic pluck at my soul as I surveyed the time that had already passed for good.

And as I thought back over the conversation that I'd had that morning with my mother, the one that had been haunting me all day, I realised that I wasn't really asking for help at all; I was simply asking to share the burden of this almost unbearable love, and the agony and ecstasy of this lonely journey through motherhood, with someone who truly understands.

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