It is 17 months after the birth of my son. I am still emotional. I blame the hormones. But I may be nearing the end of that excuse.
I've just spent the last month reading a blog about a little girl who died of brain cancer. If you feel the need to make yourself sad, learn some about what it is like to live with and then loose a child to cancer, and feel extremely grateful for what you do have, visit Mary Tyler Mom.
Mr. H. has often wondered why I torture myself with sad movies, tv shows that play on the emotions. He wonders why I cry when I watch "the Biggest Loser" finale. I can't help it, I cry, and sometimes I like to. But he also gets it that it's cathartic. And this most recent crying fest over Donna's story. Well, I think Mary Tyler Mom lived the fear that all parents go through. Never in my life have I loved something so fully as I love my son. It is a joy and a privilege to see him grow. And I worry constantly that something will happen to him. Not necessarily something catastrophic that he'll get cancer (though with him being named after his uncle who died of cancer, that thought has crossed my mind). I also think that I'll fail him somehow. That by letting him fall down, I'm being too hard on him. Maybe I don't coddle him enough. Maybe I coddle him too much.
Anyway, this parenting thing is hard. Just about as hard as living can sometimes be. And if nothing else, reading Donna's story has reminded me that I am truly a lucky and privileged person.
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