Half-Birthday

Where does the time go?

This boy is six months old. He sits all by himself, grabs toys and other objects with determined deliberation and waves bye-bye and hello. His smile lights up the room—and my heart. I love him with every cliche motherhood has to offer.

This time last year I worried that I wouldn’t love him enough; I worried that his place in my heart would be less than. That his sister would outshine him and that I’d always feel like I had to work to find love for him.

How ridiculous.

I love this boy because, quite simply, he is this boy. He is mine and I am his, and we belong to one another now and always.

Happy half-birthday, my baby boy.

***

In other news, I’m working on a new article. Can anyone who is the child of divorce and also now a parent who is going through divorce contact me? You can email me or leave a way to contact you in my comments.

The story is about how children of divorce cope with the break-up of their own marriages, and if they deal with their own separations differently because of how their parents handled divorce.

I will not use identifying details in my piece. My deadline is Wednesday, at least to complete the interviews.

Thanks in advance!