Fear. That has been my teacher this week.

Fear of not being enough.

Fear of being too much.

Most of this centered around my debut at Moms of Hue, posting my second piece there, and second guessing my voice, my writing style, my authenticity, me.

What is the point of that?

When did that voice enter the lexicon?

Abandon. She was my other teacher.

As in letting it go.  As in embracing fear,  thanking her for the lesson plan but telling her I’ve already learned that piece. Today.

Sammy was sleeping next to me this morning. His regular three a.m. migration pattern. His snoring was on the verge of annoying me, when I remembered the yearning to have this child in my arms.  What it was like to be a waiting mother,  turning inside out when the phone rang.

Then I pictured him a few years from now- headsets on-sauntering in the opposite direction of me-with confidence-towards the known, the unknown.

I felt so much joy then, at just being able to just listen to his deep deep breaths. To be able to reach over and rub his head as a mother.

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