Home

There are days that you wish could last forever, and then there are days that you wish you could just stay in bed until it's over. I never really understood this concept until I became a mother. On the good days, the children are playing together, the signifigant other tells you how much he appreciates you, and all is generally right with the world. The bad days are a little harder to take, but you do it because you have to. On Tuesday, I took the baby to the doctor. He had a fever of 104 for about four days, and he was showing no sign of getting any better. At the doctor's office, there was a mother, who, much like me, looked like she hadn't slept in a few nights. She was pressing her lips to the head of her feverish little baby, consoling her, and trying not to cry. I could relate to her overwhelming fatigue, and see her sense of helplessness as she held her child. I looked down at my own armful, and felt tears stinging my eyes. Perhaps it was the sleep deprived state that I was in, but most likely it was the tiny little person with the hot dry skin and the glassy eyes staring back at me, totally dependant on me to help him feel better. He is still too young to tell me what he needs, but he was finding comfort in my arms. Occasionally, he would whimper "mum" and snuggle closer, as if to make sure I was still there. He eventually fell asleep.
Later that evening, as Levi (my hubby-to-be) and I lay on the couch, I found myself snuggling deeper into his warm embrace. My tears were threatening to find their way to the surface. As if he could read my heart, he simply kissed the top of my head and whispered "It was a hard day for you, wasn't it?" I just nodded, and savored every moment of being there in his arms. Everything would be all right. He understood, and there was no need for words. Was this how Connor had felt earlier that day? Safe? Loved? Understood? I sincerely hope so. I mean, isn't this what love is all about- the feeling of being home?