I saw you and held you for the first time when you were only minutes old. If God is love, then only a parent can know what love really means. To love someone who came from you, this is what a mother’s love is and this is the love I feel for you, my child.
It is a kind of love that knows pain. Like the time when you wouldn’t take a bottle and I had to take you to the hospital. Or the time you fell out of Aunt Pat’s truck and got a big goose egg on your head. Or your first day of kindergarten. You cried as I was leaving and I went home and cried too because I knew that you missed me and were sad.
It is a kind of love that knows fear and I’ll never forget the fear I felt (every mother’s worst fear) when you disappeared out of the yard at Alligator. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared. Or so happy and mad at the same time when I found you. I whipped you all the way home and I’m sure I cried harder than you while I was doing it.
It is the kind of love that knows pride, the kind of pride that can only come when a dear daughter does well. Like the day you graduated with honors. I couldn’t have been prouder if I had been the one graduating.
You’re all grown up now and a young woman out in the world. I still love you and always will. My heart still breaks when your heart hurts. I fear for you and pray God’s protection for you every night before I go to bed. And I am still proud of you though you might not think I am sometimes.
You are still my baby and always will be until I die and even after that. I love you with all that I am and have.