Holding you, cuddling you. I wonder though. How is it possible for you to bring me such joy with just a touch, just a hug, just a cuddle, just a giggle.
I can feel the softness of your cheeks. I can’t think if a better place to keep mine.
I can feel your ribs, the shoulder blades. And I am reminded, how fragile you were when I first touched you. Just a layer of flesh over a network of delicate bones. How I feared that you might break if I held you too hard, too close.
Now I don’t fear the fragility. I embrace the gentleness that it evokes in me, the blind trust that you place in me and the knowing trust that God places in me.
I keep telling myself. This joy is short. You will grow up before I can accept it. You will not want a cuddle but a perfunctory hug. Strength will displace fragility. Independence will displace your needs.
I try not to think of that. But I know one thing for sure. I am so eternally grateful for your fragility. It has made me a mother. A gentle, caring woman. Your fragility has opened up tender feelings from deep within, breaking my shells. For that my dear, I thank you. Thank you God. For trusting me.
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Acceptance Parenting 