Today I went to my cousin's basketball game at the Y. It was pretty intense 4 on 4 (actually 3/3 because the other team had a player missing) and afterward my uncle, who is also the coach, spent about 20 minutes giving my cousin tips on how to improve his game.
Little H was snuggled peacefully next to my chest. Often it occurs to me that I love him very intensely, that I'll nurture him and care for him, and that I will be a fantastic mother for him.... but I can never be his dad. I can never teach him the best stance for dribbling and shooting, how to properly hold a bat or the best way to run a football down the field. Even if he takes interest in music and theater and speech, my pep talks and tips will never mean as much to him as they would coming from a father. That father/son bond can't exist between us because I simply can't relate in that intimate way.
Part of this process is letting go of things I can't control. I just need to do my best, surround him with good role models and pray it's enough.
A few days ago, I went to a movie with an acquaintance and afterward, we decided mutually that we should get to know each other better, which, considering my lack of an active social circle, can't possibly be a bad thing. (Shut up, anxiety. I'm trying to knock those walls down. ) We were exchanging questions and he said, "You'll have to tell me about [your son] sometime." A few moments later he added, "...and your girls. They clearly have your heart." That first sentence, blinking bright against the black on my iPhone struck me so profoundly. It's a simple request. "Tell me about your son." The innocuous reason he asked that question was simply because he knows that my son is important to me and wants to know more about the people I care about. However, when I read it, it struck me how I would seriously answer what my children truly mean to me and how I would honestly describe them. Not in the funny things they do, or the sweet things th...
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