This blog posting will consist entirely of a past journal entry which i think ties into my previous blog posting quite well.
February 1, 2011
Dear Flower
I had Brooklyn over the weekend. Every time i give her back up to (the mother) i feel wounded in some way. And i feel like i've wounded her. I feel like i desperately need to be with her. And she desperately needs to be with me. And i feel like there's nothing i can do about my child being wounded like this again, and again. I feel helpless. It's enough to drive one insane.
I can't tell you how many times i pick up something of hers to put away--like a hat or a toy--and wish that i had her cheeks there for me to kiss on. Every time i think about her, i wish she were here with me so i could show her i love her. And i feel bad for her, very concerned for her well-being, that maybe she's not getting enough love, or doesn't understand or forgets that i love her.
Whenever she's with me, i'm always vigilant about treating her with respect, and try to never snap at her in a way that's mean or hurtful, regardless of how she behaves, because i know i won't be able to see her again the next day or the day after that to give her plenty of hugs to remind her of how much i love her.
Whenever i HAVE mistakenly snapped at her, i have felt troubled by it every day until i saw her again. It makes me think sometimes that people who get to have their kid live with them all the time perhaps don't know how lucky they are. And it also makes me think that a parent is someone who makes mistakes, but keeps on trying to do the right thing. It's a humbling role, but perhaps a sign of good leadership, to admit your mistakes, admit you may not be the best, but then keep on trying to do what you feel is best.
~Mark @markenglish13
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