Sometimes I ask you, little one.
Sometimes I cry as a result of the globe is therefore huge and you’re therefore tiny, and that i worry—Oh, do I worry—about your size during this huge world.
Sometimes I cry as a result of you’re therefore huge and I’m therefore tiny, and also the larger you get to ME, the smaller i purchase to you, and that i worry—Lord, however I worry—about my size in your huge world.
Sometimes I cry as a result of this love is just too huge and my heart is just too tiny, and a explosive heart feels—strangely, painfully—an awful ton sort of a breaking one.
Sometimes I cry as a result of I’m weak by the wonder of you.
Sometimes I cry as a result of I’m weak by the burden of you.
Sometimes I cry as a result of within the method of gaining you, I gave up a version of ME, and tho' I wouldn’t modification that even though I may, generally I miss ME urgently.
Sometimes I cry as a result of your skin is therefore soft, and your eyes square measure therefore bright, and your thereforeul is so new, and your heart is therefore open, and I’m unhappy. I’m unhappy that your innocence can crumble from experiences brutal and necessary, as a result of you're as painfully human because the remainder of USA.
Sometimes I cry as a result of you wish facilitate in ways in which I can’t assist you, and helplessness as a parent feels—strangely, surprisingly—an awful ton like sheer terror.
Sometimes I cry as a result of as a mother I even have no selection however to place on my big-girl panties a day, and each of these things—having no selection and big-girl panties—can be very, very uncomfortable.
Sometimes I cry as a result of i'm therefore improbably tired—not sleepyheaded, however tired—that I can’t do the rest.
Sometimes I cry as a result of I hear God in your giggles.
Sometimes I cry as a result of your terribly existence evokes a joy therefore profound that smiles and laughter can’t quite reach it.
Sometimes I cry as a result of this blessing is therefore huge and my cup is therefore tiny and also the overflow needs to go somewhere.
Sometimes I cry as a result of all of those things—the love, the worry, the disappointment, the beauty, the explosive, the big-girl panties, the blessing—it’s only too a lot of to require. Just too, too much.
So generally I ask you. And for me. And for this huge world. And for m different terrible, wonderful, desperate, lovely reasons that you just won’t perceive till you’re a parent.
Sometimes I ask you, little one. Big, cleansing tears.
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