A Dash of Hope…



A simple ‘Sorry‘ does not seem to accurately portray how I feel about the first year of your life my sweet darling son. Though you are so wanted I find it hard to want to be here. I know when you nurse in the middle of the night, that as you caress my face so lovingly you feel the moisture my tears have left there as they stream down my face. It’s not because of you I promise. They are weeping from deep within my sad heart FOR you. I cherish your kisses you share with me after your bath time, when you wake every morning. I adore that you hold my face still just so you can look into my soul. I wonder if perhaps you do see the mama I long to be, to feel like, rather than the mother I more often than not seem to be. Thank You for loving me when I feel so unworthy of such a gift. You are most precious to me my darling son. When I walk into our room to pick you up from your naps, you light up like the lilies in our garden as they follow the Suns light in the morning. All that joy just at the sight of me – it melts my heart. Thank you for finding happiness in me, in our kitchen dancing sessions. I’m so glad you’re not a picky listener…as I sing off key…and you still hum along to our favorite songs. You never seem worried that I won’t be here, for you, even when I feel so far away. I hope that never changes, as most days it is my saving grace. Your laugh reminds me of your fathers, and beyond that your grandfathers. You must be a very old soul to understand the things you do and see, and still laugh so whole-heartedly. Your patience takes my breath away my darling son. Always waiting for your mother to wipe her tears, always with the knowledge that you are my reason to keep going.




I use to have the most terrible dreams when we were one. Dreams that all the things the doctors were telling me could happen did happen, and yet, so perfect was your smile, your heart, your tiny beautiful body when you were born. All the tests, and all the ultrasounds could not quiet this fretful mind I have. Forever lingering on the first words rather than the last of each specialist that kindly tried to calm my fears and assure me that you were healing inside of me. I counted the days until your healthy arrival, and then, suddenly when you were about one month in age – I started to weep at what I thought was a case of built up fears and stress finally allowing themselves to be released – having been given the ‘all clear’ at the sight of your glossy eyes staring into mine. The weeping never stopped. And now here I am, with you, thankful and without a way to show it. I tell you daily that I am, because I feel you need to hear it. I need you to hear it. I’m so afraid that you don’t feel my love for you. Trembling with guilt that I haven’t done enough as the sun goes down to show you I’m still here fighting for us, our family, you. It may seem like it’s all for not just now my darling son, but with Gods grace and loving kindness – one day soon all the pain your mama holds back from her world will subside. And I will truly be here. And you’ll be waiting…Β my darling son.

There is much to be said about my life as a mother, your mother. It is a job I adore and am beyond thankful to have. I know so many women who do not have this and would give up everything to have a baby just like you…perfect in every way. That thought is never far from me. As I carefully toss and turn in the bed we share, I think about how I can do better, show more love, be more patient and kind. It dawned on me this morning before the sun was even up…you are the example God has given me. For you are my inspiration, the vibrant ying to my tattered yang. The banana to my peanut butter. The best of me. I love you my darling son. I’m not here yet, but I’m not going anywhere…I promise.




21 thoughts on “A Dash of Hope…

  1. SO sweet and relatable. I went through postpartum depression when I had my son (he was my first born). I couldn’t and didn’t enjoy him like I should have and never understood why until I went to the doctor a was diagnosed. Its a horrible feeling. One beyond our control. Stupid hormones. Hugs to you and your beautiful baby boy πŸ’œ

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    1. I hope you’re right. Most days I don’t feel that way but I’m getting there. I’m trying not to focus on my depression, and instead see the beauty in the role I have in my life as a mom. There’s so much to remind me….sometimes we all need that. Thank you for your loving words.πŸ’œ


  2. I cannot even begin to tell you how this made me feel. Beautiful is an understatement. I fight with this every day feeling as if I am not a good enough mother, and I pray that one day I will be. I loved this.

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    1. I know Hun, and I truly believe that the worry is what makes us good mothers, just not my extent. It becomes a problem at some point….I know I crossed that line. You will do wonderfully because you care so much about doing it right. Thank you for your kind wordsπŸ’œ

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      1. Sometimes I feel as if my PTSD and depression take over so much that I will never be able to completely be a mommy, the kind Tristan deserves. I just have to remember I am giving him my all, and I hope that it will be enough for him

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    1. Thank you πŸ’œ I cried as I wrote it. I just needed to pen what I felt for him, rather than what I was feeling about myself. It was so hard but so worth it. God is so good when we just stay still…and listen.

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