What is a Parent's Love?
~ mshanson3121
People think a parent's love is words,
flowers and poems.
People think love is rubbing your child's hair,
Playing games with them,
and reading them stories.
People think love is snuggling them
on the couch, and rocking them to sleep.
People think love is breastfeeding a baby, cuddling them to their breast.
People think love is playing peek a boo and tickling toes.
People think love is buying a toy when you visit the store.
People think love is teaching them to ride a bike.
People think love is going to watch their child sing in the latest play.
People think love is paying for piano lessons, and 7 am hockey practices. People think love is easy.
That it's happiness, beautiful and patient.
Those things are love. The easy side of love. And that is all that most people will ever get to experience.
But I know something more, that they don't:
flowers and poems.
People think love is rubbing your child's hair,
Playing games with them,
and reading them stories.
People think love is snuggling them
on the couch, and rocking them to sleep.
People think love is breastfeeding a baby, cuddling them to their breast.
People think love is playing peek a boo and tickling toes.
People think love is buying a toy when you visit the store.
People think love is teaching them to ride a bike.
People think love is going to watch their child sing in the latest play.
People think love is paying for piano lessons, and 7 am hockey practices. People think love is easy.
That it's happiness, beautiful and patient.
Those things are love. The easy side of love. And that is all that most people will ever get to experience.
But I know something more, that they don't:
I know love is standing beside a crib at 4 am, feeding my baby through a tube.
I know that love is holding a stopwatch to count my baby's breaths.
I know that love is a foot, burned by a pulse oximeter.
I know that love is restraining my screaming child so I can insert her feeding tube.
I know that love is giving her medications three times a day.
I know that love is listening to her heart with a stethoscope.
I know that love is watching strangers poke needles into my daughter's arms while she cries.
I know that love is driving her to endless doctor's appointments and hospitals.
I know that love is trying to keep an active baby quiet, during an echocardiogram.
I know that love is climbing onto a narrow gurney to lay beside your child, trying not to disturb her EKG leads.
I know that love is learning to walk out of a hospital room while your daughter watches you from her crib.
I know that love is signing consent forms that risk your daughter's life.
I know that love is anger, fear and frustration.
I have learned that love can seem painful, both to the one giving and to the one receiving it. But I've learned that this love is perhaps the most beautiful of all.
This love is selfish, stubborn, born of a determination to fight for your child. It is born of miserable circumstances that most will never have to face. It is the love that will face trials and conquer them.
It is the love I have learned, taught by my daughter.
I know that love is holding a stopwatch to count my baby's breaths.
I know that love is a foot, burned by a pulse oximeter.
I know that love is restraining my screaming child so I can insert her feeding tube.
I know that love is giving her medications three times a day.
I know that love is listening to her heart with a stethoscope.
I know that love is watching strangers poke needles into my daughter's arms while she cries.
I know that love is driving her to endless doctor's appointments and hospitals.
I know that love is trying to keep an active baby quiet, during an echocardiogram.
I know that love is climbing onto a narrow gurney to lay beside your child, trying not to disturb her EKG leads.
I know that love is learning to walk out of a hospital room while your daughter watches you from her crib.
I know that love is signing consent forms that risk your daughter's life.
I know that love is anger, fear and frustration.
I have learned that love can seem painful, both to the one giving and to the one receiving it. But I've learned that this love is perhaps the most beautiful of all.
This love is selfish, stubborn, born of a determination to fight for your child. It is born of miserable circumstances that most will never have to face. It is the love that will face trials and conquer them.
It is the love I have learned, taught by my daughter.
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