Tuesday, May 8, 2018

Sons


I'm grateful I get to have sons.

I remember when Ephraim was born, I experienced a whole new level of motherly love. Love between a mother and a son is completely different than between a mother and her daughter.



In some ways, the love you feel for your son is an extension of the love you feel for your husband. The baby you gave birth to is not a mini-you, it's a mini-him.

Yet it's a version of him you've never experienced: young and vulnerable, completely dependent on you. It endears you to your son because you know what he will become. He will become a man, strong and independent just like his father. Yet you get to love him and cherish him at his weakest and most inhibited state.

I love these little men. It's as if the "mask" of adulthood is dimmed and you get to see your son at his essence: they are quick to give hugs and affection, they cry and are scared, and yet their boy energy is boundless in their need to play and wrestle.

I love little boys and their love of bugs and dirt. What is it that poem my mom used to have us recite? "Frogs and snails and puppy dog tails, that's what little boys are made of." I love how physical play comes naturally to them as they laugh, whoop and holler when they chase each other and play games. I feel some trepidation as my boys grow and they turn inward with their feelings, making it harder to decipher what they are thinking. So I am grateful for my little sons, and have faith and hope that my Father in Heaven will guide me as their mother as they grow.

I feel less qualified to raise a son as opposed to a daughter, but one thing I know for certain is that I love my sons, with my whole heart.

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