Boy Mom

Photo by Natalie Defnall

George is two.  He is mine.  No one questions why he wants mommy to rock him, why only mommy can change him, why mommy has to scramble his eggs...it just is.  He is my boy, he is my baby, he is mine.

When we found out we were pregnant with a boy, all my girlfriends of boys said to just wait... no one will love you like your baby boy will.  They are the best.
It is true.
He loves me.
I love him.
There are no words that express the connection between a mother and her son.
It's beautiful.
It is also beautiful when both mother and son can let that grow into a way for him to love his wife with all that devotion and commitment that was once reserved just for mom.
I'm not ready for that to happen.
It's my deepest desire for that to happen.
It's already starting to happen... the pulling away. Even at two. I saw the very first glimpse of it today.
We were in a tuk tuk and the traffic was crazy, as always... and I put my arm around George. He pulled away and said "I can sit by myself"
Yes you can little boy.
It hurt a little.
I was proud.
He was confident.
I was scared because this is just the beginning...
The beginning of not needing mommy to hold him, rock him, scramble his eggs.
I want that.
I don't want that.
These were my thoughts - all because of a tuk tuk ride!
I must be crazy, but part of me thinks I am like every other mom of boys. Loving and simultaneously hating these transitions to independence.

The transitions will keep coming.  And I will keep loving enough to let go.  And maybe, just maybe, we will both turn into something to be proud of.