Tomorrow, it will be two months since Bear was born. Even though I know the date, I no longer have a sense of days or hours. Time is one big, rolling ball of emotion that does not adhere to the usual luteal rhythms.
I cannot remember what my life was like before Bear was born. And to be honest, I quite like it like that. What I am not pleased about is that every morning means we move further from that place when he was here, when I could stroke his nose. How dare the world revolve and the sun still rise when my heart aches like this.
If you asked me whether I would do it all again, I'd say it in a flash, shout it from the rooftops: ABSOLUTELY!
Even, when I take into account all the pain and tears, such raging anger and emptiness that I had never known before. I am fuller, richer for having my boy. My body now knows a new kind of love. A pure, strong, guttural love that hurts and aches and makes me smile.
Having children is about enhancing your heart. Sure, I've missed out on cuddles. I've missed out on his perfect bottom. I've missed out on sitting back and admiring this wonderful, innocent person made from tiny pieces of Toby and I. But my heart is bigger. In fact, I feel as though my organs have shifted about a bit to make room for my little wonder. He is with me always, and no one can take that away.