Thankful

I am profoundly thankful for the life that I have and I often wonder how I came to be so lucky. I was having a conversation with a woman named Ann yesterday, who is a doula and massage therapist, among other things, and we were having a wonderful conversation about life. About how it is that we end up where we are. Her belief is that we choose our parents, that we pick them for the lessons they will teach us and the life they will provide for us. Wolf and I talked about that very thing when we were working on getting pregnant (not that we had to work hard since it only took one try both times). We felt that when the child we were meant to have was ready to come to us, it would. And just like I feel that Wolf completes me, I feel my boys complete us. We are a team, a good, strong solid team that has its ups and downs, but will always triumph.

I wonder every day if I'm a good mother. I used to think that that was what I was put on this earth to do, to birth two boys, these two boys. But I am often terrified that I will somehow fail them, that I am not a patient enough, calm enough, gentle enough mother for them. And then, as I type this, Mason comes walking quietly out of his room with a big shy smile on his beautiful face, knowing he should be sleeping, and climbs up in to my arms as I meet him halfway across the floor. "I just had to come out and tell you that you are warm and cozy and fresh, mamabear." Which can only be topped by his closing argument of "how did I get so lucky to have the best mom in the world?"

My heart swells and my chest aches. He is a good boy, a kind and gentle, good hearted boy and although we can only take partial credit, as parents, it makes me feel a little bit better, a little less guilty about my bad parenting skills. At least until tomorrow.