There are days when I look at Tay, sleeping soundly in his stroller seat or in my lap and I can’t help but remind myself of how vulnerable he is.
Sometimes it’s easy to forget that now that he’s no longer a newborn with spindly limbs and a frail little cry.
I think about how large and merciless the world is and I can already count myself incredibly lucky for having had a healthy baby in a civilized country with healthcare and education in a comparatively safe part of the world. My baby has a father who loves me and loves his son unreservedly. We have jobs and a house and clothing/food/transportation and we live comfortably enough.
Still, I look at my sleeping baby and I know that the world, even when you live in a privileged part of it, is full of hatred and anger and ugliness. I think of all the mothers before me who suffered through the cruelest of times: women who had their babies torn from their arms by enemy soldiers in times of war, who had to watch as someone took a tiny person, helpless, scared and confused and snuffed out their life with nothing more than a heavy rock or the butt of a rifle.
It’s horrible, I know.
It’s morbid of me to think of these things sometimes when I have a peaceful moment with my child.
But it also makes me think about the future of my boy.
It makes me think of how we comfort our children, with hugs and kisses and telling them it’ll be okay.
And I know that there will be a day, some day inn the future, when I won’t be able to make things okay for my child. No amount of hand holding or tear wiping or smiling will make it okay.
I have no idea when that day will come or what the circumstanes will be, I just know that it’s an inevitability in the life of every parent.
We’re only human, after all, even if our children may not realize that for a while.
In the meantime, I try to push those thoughts away and cherish the smiles and laughs and cuddles while they last.
And hope with all my heart that they last as long as possible.