Admission

Isn't it amazing the things we hold close ? The things we are not sure if we should share ? I learned a valuable lesson today about sharing and so share I did. I don't think I've ever told my husband my true feelings about our son's diagnosis. I have admitted being angry, etc. I have shared certain things. I don't think I've ever admitted about the extent of my disappointment of the dreams I felt I had lost. Very selfish of me, but my feelings none the less. I admitted that I was resentful. That I am ticked off that he won't get the chances I thought he should have. My husband's response - well then he wouldn't be the same kid would he ?

My husband doesn't worry as much. Most men don't I think. Thank God for that because women worry enough. We need someone to not worry although it can be nice to share the worry. He has his moments. His grey hair days. Overall, he is able to see the forest for the trees whereas as I stand around looking vainly for a sign pointing me in the right direction to get to the forest. I routinely lose sight of what I have and continue to mourn for what I might have lost. It takes up far too much room in my brain. Michael just sees Thomas. He sees his good boy who is helpful and kind. He sees the son who will learn from him what a good father should be. While I sometimes have my doubts as to the sureness of my sanity when I said Yes, I will marry you, it's moments like this that I thank God again that I did. My husband is one of the best father's you will ever see. He loves fiercely. He plays even more so. He takes his kids to the park, to the pool, to the beach, to go for sausages, to go for a bike ride, to go for a walk, to go wrestle on the bed and to his heart. He gives them cuddles and kisses and compliments. He gives them discipline and support and knowledge. My children will never have to question if their father loves them. It is in their skin. They will grow up and have so many happy memories to choose from they won't know where to begin. My children believe that babies choose their parents from Heaven. I guess they made a good choice.

Michael helps me to see the trees, the birds and the sky. He helps me climb down from the trees when I am clinging tightly to the top and can't look down. Occasionally he wants to throw the tree at me but takes his frustration out on a golf ball instead. He stands like a solid oak with a touch of bendy willow. Sometimes the trees are quiet and the forest lays still. It's those times we walk together hand in hand kicking up leaves and marvelling at the canopy above.

We both have an affinity for trees. Something about the way they are solid and true providing protection and shelter. We marvel at their size and their longevity. We are saddened when they are felled as though we had lost a friend. I wonder what a tree symbolizes ? Maybe that is something else we can share.