Dear Bently,

Being a mother is a strange thing. It changes you to your very core. Today I came home on break, expecting to find you happy and ready to eat dinner with me. As I walked to the house I heard you crying. I immediately knew something wasn't right. It's hard to explain, but I just knew it. I ran inside to find Annie apologizing to me, saying she didn't know what was wrong. I ran into the bedroom to find you bawling your eyes out on your bed. I can't explain to you the guilt I felt. The guilt of not being there for you when you were in such distress. I knew you were sick. There was no doubt in my mind. I scooped you up as quickly as possible and cuddled you and kissed you. There was no thought of "Oh but I might get sick". I just knew you were hurting and I hated it. Later, you threw up all over the couch. I do not like throw up. In fact I hate a phobia of throwing up when I was younger. But one look in your eyes, how scared you were, the throw up didn't even phase me. All I wanted to do was help you and make sure you were alright. You see, being a parent is an amazing thing. It changes you in ways you don't fully understand. All I know is I would do absolutely anything to keep you safe. To keep you from pain and worry. I heard a quote once that said,

"Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body."

This is exactly how I feel about you. I love you so much Bently. I hope you feel better. And forgive me for not being there for you when you were so sad and so sick. I love you more than anything in the entire world.

Love,
Mom