Time

It's not that I thought I would never hear these words;

I just thought I would have time.
Time for...
more adventures,
more little moments,
more bonding,
more hugs and kisses and snuggles,
more conversations,
more mommy and A time,
more life to pass by.

Last night, as we were rocking, Anthony turned to me and said the words I wrongly thought were long down the road:

You are not my momma.

Calmly, without tears, I responded with a torrent of reassurance with I love yous, I've always wanted you, I always will be your momma, you are the best thing to happen to me, I want you in my life, the best part of everyday is being your momma, daddy's wife and a part of this family...

His response?

No, you're not my momma.

I kissed him, continued to rock and then put my sweet boy to bed.

Then the tears came and continue to come.

I cry for this boy who has been hurt and for his momma who loves him so much.

I'm trying to push down my fears, anxiety and insecurities, but they have bubbled to the surface and percolate in my mind.

How long does it take for a child to feel love, secure, wanted, appreciated, and special on a day to day, hour to hour, minute by minute basis?

I keep thinking more time is what we need.

I'm going to try to push aside my insecurities, dry up my tears and continue on with loving with the absolute knowledge that it will matter.

Love always matters.