For as long as my memory goes back, my mama has been my safe place. Everyday after school I'd hurry anxiously home knowing she'd be there waiting for us. She was always there. She calmed my fears and anxiety about things and always made me feel comfortable telling her about boy crushes and drama between friends. She loved me through moody teenage phases and I never questioned if she accepted me as I was. She taught me that I was a daughter of God. All the things I couldn't tell other people, I could tell her. And though I've grown and don't need her for every little thing anymore, she fills a space no one will ever be able to replace. We can talk about anything and everything, I can tell her my joys, dreams and the worries I have as a mother. She's the one person, other than my husband, who knows me like no one else. She has always been my best friend.
I woke up before the boys this morning, like I do a lot of mornings thanks to pregnancy insomnia. Wesley was asleep on my chest, stirring occasionally, but always settling his head back into the groove of my neck. He does this every morning. I like to think it's because he finds familiarity in my heartbeat. And then it just sort of hit me that I've become his safety. Just the warmth of my body next to his or the sound of my voice calms and reassures him. The thoughts about my own mama came to mind and I couldn't help but smile at the realization. I am someones mama, someones constant, someones best friend. I am the one he looks for when he falls down or reaches to when he's afraid of a stranger. He will come to me for comfort, assurance and unconditional love throughout his whole life.
How beautiful is that? To be his safe haven and the one sure thing he can always count on.
As we get further into toddlerhood and communication is still limited, we have more frustrating moments. Moments where I feel like I am failing him or disappointing myself. But this morning I had the feeling that maybe I'm doing okay after all. As he gets older I see more than ever the importance of the way I make him feel about himself and it helps me respond to him differently. Better than I used to. The weight of him sleeping peacefully on me assures me that even though I am not perfect, I am enough for him. I hope when he looks back he can say he always felt important, valued and that his feelings mattered. I hope he can say that he only ever felt love from his mama.