Parenting: Life’s Biggest Contact Sport. In Fire. With No Protective Gear.

Someone once told me: “You should not become a teacher unless you are prepared to get your heart shattered every day.”

I truly believe that advice. It’s one of the reasons I stopped teaching, because I had had my heart shattered twice by what my students were going through and that was enough for me. I just wasn’t strong enough.

…But no one told me that the same held true for parenting.
That there would be moments when my heart would get so wrecked that I wouldn’t even be able to breathe.
And some of it is bittersweet and some of it is devastating but all of it is incredibly painful.

And I am glad that nobody told me how painful it was going to be. I’m glad that they left these moments as a surprise. Because, as devastating as they are, they are also the most rich and beautiful moments I could’ve ever imagined. They completely engulf and enflame you until you’re unable to accept any reality other than the one your child is living in. They connect you to a pain so simultaneously punishing and affirming that it actually breathes life into every embrace and makes every touch, every kiss, every giggle that much more crucial to your existence.
It’s the kind of pain that torches your gut and tickles your skin.

It’s a pain born of love. Of selflessness. Of complete and utter insanity.

And it’s fucking beautiful, ya’ll.

And maybe I am strong enough.

Thanks, Billie. Mommy loves you.

Parenting: Life’s Biggest Contact Sport. In Fire. With No Protective Gear.

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