The love you feel for your child(ren) is almost indescribable. It’s the most fulfilling, heartbreaking, joyful, painful, amazingly aching feeling I’ve ever experienced. You really love them so much with every fiber of your being, that it hurts so bad.
I love everything about my daughter. I love the way she annoys me. The way she laughs, the way she cries. The way she looks at things so curiously, and asks questions about everything. I love her because she is mine, and there will never be anything that would make me feel differently.
With loving THAT hard, you wouldn’t think I have more room to love other children, but my heart will always have enough love for my other two.
They aren’t mine. They aren’t my husbands. But my heart doesn’t care. My heart sees these two beautiful girls, and the love aches for them as well. It worries just the same, it holds them just the same.
It still thinks about how their day is going, how their heart feels, the thoughts racing through their mind. It worries about them growing up, getting their heart broken, getting their feelings hurt, facing challenges through life. It wants to protect them against all the shitty things this world has to offer. It loves them the same.
My heart wonders if they have ate enough, if they love themselves, how they see the world. It brags about them, it’s proud of them. It feels blessed just the same.
As a mother, those little humans that pop out of you are special, but the ones who didn’t can take you by surprise. They wrap themselves around your heart so tight, it doesn’t matter whether you gave birth to them or not. They are yours.
It could be considered a curse to love that hard, to have a heart that open. But I will always be grateful. Life is crazy, shit gets weird. Not everything is gonna be normal, and your family isn’t always going to be average.
For every family, the relationship is different. Step child, adopted, niece, nephew, cousin, foster child. But none of those labels matter to your heart.