A Love Story

My thoughts are a bit jumbled today, and I'm finding it difficult to write this post... so please bear with me because I really want to send a message about Love. However, all the words I choose seem to shrink the concept to simply life-size, when it is actually larger than life, larger than our words, larger than us.

A mother's love is something that is bigger than the sum of it's parts. That is to say, it kind of becomes it's own thing, and like a wild fire, it cannot be tamed or tied down. Sometimes it is even difficult to try and look at the love because it's burns so fiercely. That is how I try to describe it, but like I said, words just can't seem to do it justice.

What I'm trying to explain is my thoughts about Malakai's diagnosis, and how I naively thought that I was 'loosing' something, a dream or an idea... But my goodness if I had only known! If I had only known about this thing that my love would become. If only I had known that it would grow bigger and more powerful than anything I could ever hope to control.

I held Malakai last night, as he fell asleep in my arms, so content to be close to me after patiently 'waiting his turn' while I put Harlan to bed. As he lay there, his eyes were perfect half-moons framed by prolific lashes, his hand rested on my chest, I just couldn't believe this love, this wild fire that I cannot tame - that I don't want to tame.

How could I have thought that I was 'loosing' anything? I want to scream from some primal place how naive I was, how wrong, how silly... Couldn't I see? Didn't I understand? What does an extra chromosome matter when your son is lying in your arms, completely content, completely safe and secure in your love? What does it matter?

It doesn't matter. Not one little bit.