One of us

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A woman looked at you in your stroller and her eyes jumped up to mine. “Wow, you’re brave for taking such a little one along.”
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I politely smiled. Nodding toward Ezra, I said “I once did the same with him when he was even younger.”
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Her face said that maybe she thought you would be better off in the confines of home. Perhaps a hotel room with a nanny is what she had in mind.
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You smiled up at me like you knew what I was thinking.
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How much joy is missed because we are trying so hard to make everything easy?
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Brave? No. That is almost an insult to true bravery. Effort doesn’t equate to bravery. No, having you with us doesn’t make me brave.
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But it does make me happy. Watching the light in your eyes as you take it all in, has truly made each moment more special. You’ve created boisterous laughs, content sighs, and beaming smiles every step of the way.
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You’re one of us, baby boy. It wouldn’t be the same without you.
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And if that means remembering everything you need, pushing a stroller, changing your diapers along the way, carrying you, comforting you, feeding you, keeping you safe, keeping you warm in the breeze and shaded in the sun. Doing everything we are meant to do for you anyway, to have you with us. Well then, that doesn’t make us brave. It makes life brighter.
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You weren’t a burden. You were the precious part.
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You are the precious part.