Raising a son is gonna wreck you.

He’s gonna lock eyes with you and it’s not gonna matter whether it’s his big adoring newborn baby eyes or his wiser inside-joke man eyes, and you will be wrecked. Every time.

He is gonna want to be with you every second of the day and then he’s going to live his own life and have few words to share about it, and it’s going to be all talk or complete silence and everything in between, and it’s gonna wreck you.

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He is going to be emotional one minute and a locked vault the next. He is going to shed tears and then hold it in because he refuses to cry, and it’s gonna wreck you.

He is going to be really bad at something, like painfully, dreadfully bad, and since he is a perfectionist and self-conscious and not fully himself yet, it’s going to wreck him, and that will certainly wreck you.

He is going to soar. Like, mountaintop, majestic glory soar, and you are going to want to firework-explode from pride and adoration, and it’s gonna to wreck you.

He is going to be yours for the first part of his life and someone else’s for the rest, but the bond you have is for life, and every time for the rest of forever that he walks in and announces, “Hi Mom!” and comes over for a hug, it’s gonna WRECK YOU.

Originally published on the author’s Facebook page