Of course it does. It tugs, as they say, at our heart strings. Tug: it can all be taken away. Tug: There are no guarantees. Tug: you can't control the situation.
But love! How good (and scary) it feels! How intense (and fragile)! How big and small it all is. I can't take my eyes off of a little baby that I love. I literally stare at him, absolutely mesmerized. Amazed! Delighted with the expressions that dance through his eyes, his little hands and how they curl tightly around my finger. I fed him with a spoon today and cooed at how quickly sweet potatoes covered his lower face and dripped off his nose. He opened his mouth and tightened his muscles, nearly explosive with the excitement of the next bite. I couldn't soak in enough of that moment. It was pure love.
I only hurt tonight because I love him and I'm sad that he is not mine. Not in any real, tangible, official sense. I'm not his mom, or his caretaker, or his relative in any way. I'm a witness, though; I testify of how sweet he is, and how alive and fun and smart.
What is for sure is that Dean changed me. In some sense, he made me a mother. Maybe no one will know that - maybe not even him - but he showed me the maternal love that is awakened by loving a child.
