“Your son cannot be the love of your life!”

The love of my life wearing my shoes.

I was told by someone I knew and once loved that my son could not and cannot be the love of my life. To tell people that Adam is the love of my life, the apple of my eye, my hero, is considered weird, unnatural, questionable. Why? He came from me. We bonded and were very close to each other before he was born. He kept me eating nonstop after all the nausea; kicked my ass during labor, too.

My love for my son is infinite. He’s my best friend and for a while I could tell him anything; tell him all my hopes and dreams – even told him when I was afraid of what he would think of his mom and that he could smell my fear of failure. He’d look up at me, smiling and cooing. He loves me for who I am and I, him. I live for him, he needs me and I need him, more than he’ll ever know.

He can drive an insane person crazy with his antics and all the things he can tear up and get into within 5 minutes but, I love him through it all. So why can’t my son be the love of my life? What’s so wrong with that? Who says that I can’t consider him as the only man I’ll ever love and would die for a million times over if I had to? No one comes before him…no one!

He stole my heart and when I looked at him for the first time, it was clear he stole my face, too. He’s my mini-me, my best friend, my only love, my sweetie. When he’s away from me – even if he’s in the next room napping or asleep for the night, I miss him. I stand over him and watch him sleep. I caress his hands and kiss his fat cheeks. I tell him I love him so very much and I’m happy that he’s in my life.

He’s the love of my life and anyone who feel uncomfortable with that, tough titty.

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