Child

When I was 19 years old I gave birth to a child. I hadn't planned to be a mother, certainly not a single teenage one. I was afraid. I was upset. I was filled with dread.

When I was 19 years old I gave birth to a child. I wasn't prepared to love him as much as I did, and still do. When I first saw him I knew I loved him. I was smitten. I was determined to protect him and nurture him. I wanted to see him grow into a man. I wanted to be there when he triumphed and pick him up when he fell. He became my whole world.

Eleven years later and not much has changed. That same child has changed my life. He has been a brave little boy during various mental and physical health problems. He has been a superstar athlete competing in athletics, basketball and martial arts. He has been strong and confidant. He has been loving and caring. He shed a tear of joy for me as I married the other love of my life.

For the last 11 years he has placed his life in my hands and allowed me to steer him on the best course. Yesterday I let go, just for a little while. His first bus journey all alone. I wanted to take his hand and guide him, but instead I faked a smile and waved him off on his journey. I bit back a tear as I caught a glimpse of my baby and the man he is quickly becoming.

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This piece was written after going to bed thinking of one word. I choose the word child. This is unedited. It is a short piece describing the thoughts and emotions that are evoked when I look at my child.