The Gift of Being Seen

My not so little man qanymore

My first love was my son. I hadn’t been brought up in a particularly warm environment so I was surprised by my immediate attentiveness to this little man. We both didn’t sleep the first 8 months. I’m not sure whose anxiety was driving it. In retrospect I think I was terrified of the intimacy demanded. My well being was connected to this person. We were synched. I slept when he slept. I was awake when he was awake. If I couldn’t see him, I was unnerved. When he relaxed in my arms I felt an overwhelming sense of well being. The smell of him was nourishing and his smile gave joy I hadn’t before experienced.

We shared so many hours in the wee hours of the morning walking through deserted fields, streets, staring at each other. He would firmly grasp the tip of my finger with his tiny hands and look unblinking at me. He seemed to see deep into me. It was so gentle and so strong. His joy became my bliss.

Before him, I had learned to exist in a safe neutral place of apathy. The connection brought me to life.

I began a journey with him to become a real version of myself.

I will always be grateful for the gift of love. He looked at me and I was seen.

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