Another Kind of Love...

So this is my reward. I made a promise that I would work on that other story for a while this weekend. I did. And now I get to share another new page from the journal. As you may know, the journal is the jumping off point for each chapter. They are not necessarily in any order yet. But the chapters that follow these entries are strong. I've been tinkering with the entries in 1st and the actual chapters in 3rd. I haven't decided if I like it that way or not. We'll see. For now, just tell me if you're enjoying the journals...



There was a time that my life was my own. I can vaguely recall feeling free. Free to walk around the house in nothing but my tank top and panties. Free to stay up late reading books about far off places. Free to hop in my little car and drive for hours. Hours upon hours upon hours. Even pick up a hitchhiker. Without a destination in mind. Knowing that nobody, except maybe my boyfriend, would wonder where I was. Free.

It was exhilarating.

The day I learned I was going to be a Mom, all of that changed.

I knew that my life was no longer going to be my own. I knew that my midnight drives, the long hours that I spent searching for...something, I knew those times were over. I knew that I would need to sleep more, and that late nights with my dream men in books would be a thing of the past. I knew that my wardrobe of lovely summer dresses and luscious shoes would be replaced with jeans and t-shirts stained with snot and drool.

I knew the freedom was over.

I knew all of that the second time I learned I was going to be a mom as well. And I also knew it would be harder. My daughter? She was easy. Charming and wonderful, bright and smart. I knew it would be much more difficult the second time around.

What I didn't know? Oh, what I didn't know could fill an ocean.

I didn't know that the way my son gazed up at me while he nursed, the way he curled his fingers around mine, the way he smiled when I whispered into his ear.. I didn't know that those things would become my passion. I had no way of knowing that hearing him cry out in the middle of the night would stop my heart. Or that seeing his little face scrunched up from a bad dream, then relax into a grin at the sight, the mere sight, of me would rev my heart into overdrive.

I knew I would love my child. I knew that deep down in my bones from the first minute, the very first second, I knew of his existence.

But I didn't know that love would be so all consuming. I didn't know that love would swallow me whole, hold me hostage, threaten to make every other thing in my life mean nothing.

You see, I'd loved before. Or thought I had. And that love had almost destroyed me. It had ripped my heart from my chest as I stood there watching a piece of me lie mangled in the sand, near the beach where it was born. My heart was shattered. I thought it would never be able to love again, watching the man that I loved walk away from me, far away, into the arms of another. I stood there, wrapping my arms around myself, promising to love and to protect my child from ever having to feel that kind of pain - the pain of rejection. I hoped that my child would never love anyone as much as I'd loved that man, so that my baby would never have to feel the pain that wracked my body.

But that love was nothing compared to the love I felt every time I gazed into the eyes of my son.

That's how I knew I was in trouble. Once you love like that, and lose like that, you begin to harden yourself. I did that. I hardened myself. I built an enormous fortress around my heart, I walled in my soul. The only people allowed entrance were my children. They were the holders of the keys to my heart, the carriers of the lock to my soul.

And what I had done, that one little lie that I told all those years ago, was going to destroy them.

I could feel it already. I could feel the walls starting to crumble. I could feel my fortress eroding from the inside out.

All it had taken was an e-mail. One short message. Just a few words. "It has come to my attention that there are things we need to discuss. Call me."

It was starting. It would happen soon. And when it did, there would be nothing left of me or the life I'd worked so hard to build.

That's the way it is with love sometimes.

It can build you up, make you feel strong, convince you that you are invincible.

It can destroy you.