Sometimes I find myself shedding tears for you, my tiny miracle. Sometimes I cry because the world feels overwhelmingly vast while you seem so small. I can’t help but fret—oh, the fret!—about how tiny you are amidst it all.
Sometimes I cry because you’re growing up so fast, and I feel smaller in your eyes as the days go by. My heart races with worry—sweet Lord, the worry—about my diminishing role in your expanding universe.
Sometimes I weep because this love I hold for you is enormous, yet my heart feels insufficient, and a heart that’s about to burst can, oddly and painfully, feel a lot like it’s breaking.
Sometimes I cry because I’m simply awestruck by your beauty. Sometimes I cry from the weight of responsibility I carry for your well-being.
Sometimes I cry because in welcoming you into my life, I’ve sacrificed pieces of who I used to be. Even though I wouldn’t trade that for anything, I sometimes ache for the version of me that’s gone.
Sometimes I cry as I gaze upon your soft skin, sparkling eyes, and innocent spirit. It saddens me to know that your pure innocence will eventually be chipped away by the harsh realities of life, just like the rest of us.
Sometimes I cry because you face challenges that I feel powerless to help with, and that helplessness as a parent is—surprisingly, oddly—just like staring into the abyss of terror.
Sometimes I cry because, as a mom, I’m forced to don my “big-girl” pants daily, and let me tell you, that lack of choice along with those pants can be downright uncomfortable.
Sometimes I cry because I’m so utterly exhausted—not just sleepy, but bone-deep tired—that tears are the only thing left for me to give.
Sometimes I cry because your laughter feels like a direct line to the divine. Sometimes I cry because your mere existence elicits a joy so deep that it can’t always be contained in smiles and laughter.
Sometimes I cry because this blessing is beyond measure, and my heart is but a small cup overflowing with emotions that have to spill somewhere.
Sometimes I cry because all these feelings—the love, the worries, the sorrow, the beauty, the burden, the big-girl pants, the blessings—it’s just too much. Way too much.
So sometimes, I cry for you, my little one. I cry for me. I cry for this colossal world. And for countless other beautifully messy reasons that will only resonate with you once you become a parent yourself. Sometimes I cry for you, little one. Big, cleansing tears.
If you’re looking for more insights into parenthood, check out this helpful piece on home insemination at intracervicalinsemination.com. And for expert advice on artificial insemination, visit Make a Mom. You’ll find invaluable information there! Also, for those embarking on their IUI journey, Parents provides a fantastic resource to help guide you through the process.
In summary, parenting is a rollercoaster of emotions—joy, worry, love, and the occasional tear. It’s a journey that brings profound experiences and challenges, often leading us to reflect on our identities and responsibilities. While it can feel overwhelming, it’s also filled with beautiful moments that make it all worthwhile.