Children are precious. Moments when I am holding his little frame and his arms wrap around my neck are filled with peace. Kissing his head, smelling his baby shampoo in his warm curls, those moments are the epitome of maternal bliss.

They make every childish threat and malicious comment from his father bearable. My morning kiss goodbye from my boy prevents me from wishing I had never met his dad. Because he’s worth every second of the bullshit emanating from the source of his conception.

Life isn’t supposed to be easy. It doesn’t need to be as long as I can tickle my turdling and soak up the sweet ring of his giggles. If things weren’t difficult I suppose they would just be boring.

If I could go back and avoid all the trouble and destruction wrought by meeting his dad, I would not be able to. How could I? How could I give up the single thing that makes me a better human, that lights my heart and gives me purpose? How could I give up those chubby little cheeks and tender little hugs.

My chance to redeem all the past in his future.