Sometimes I wonder if I’m a wuss. Like, I talk about how hard things were for me (and don’t get me wrong they were) but were they really all that bad? I didn’t die. Though at one point I thought I was going to. And there were plenty of times I wondered about Kyson. But any time someone brings it to my attention I feel awkward. I’m neither a superhero nor a dainty flower. But I am terrified. There are worse things that could have happened and we were very fortunate, I know. It’s just that everything scares me.
I check him constantly to see if he is still breathing while he sleeps. I’ve just now got to the point where I feel comfortable letting him out of my grip to walk in the yard on his own. I chop his food into microscopic pieces and still freak out anytime he even makes an unfamiliar gesture while he’s eating it.
But he isn’t afraid of anything. He rides his four wheeler standing up. He’s not afraid of talking to people he doesn’t know. He climbed to the top of a slide at the playground Sunday with no help except Kyle running behind him and slid down a slide that’s as tall as I am.
But I guess that’s how I want him to be. That way I know he won’t be scared to do the things he wants to do. He’ll be as free spirited as I wish I was. He’ll probably break a few bones at some point. But he can be my little superman and he will succeed later in life… As long as I get the courage to let go.