I CAN'T take it...

I CAN'T take it.

I think I may need meds.

And I'm only 8 months in.

Is this feeling here to stay?

When I see the sad story of the baby fighting for his life or worse..the one who didn't make it...my heart and stomach ache with such intensity - like never before. I just can't take it. I try to explain it to Bill, and as wonderful as he is, we've categorized it as "my heightened level of empathy..now that I'm a mom."

But seriously?! When does this let up? I'm afraid the answer is never.

It's on Facebook - the stories with a catrillion thousand likes and comments. It's in the news - the 14 year old that got hit at her bus stop. A friend of a friend whose child's friend went missing. It doesn't matter that I don't know them - it's like I do - because it could be ... my Georgia.

I don't want to live life in fear and I certainly don't want to helicopter her out of fear. I truly don't feel fearful. But the intensity of the empathy I feel for other parents is sometimes overwhelming. I can't imagine if it was...my Georgia. I can't imagine..if it was our child.

Bill and I are so blessed and so thankful. We were gifted, by the grace of God, with an easy, healthy baby. After the exhaustion of the first few months wore off, I spent the next few months nervous. Just nervous that her health and her easy going ways were too good to be true. I wondered when it would turn around. And here we are..trucking right along...and all is well - no turning around. Everything is good. Everything is great.

I guess it's what being a mom is all about. I just hope my heart is up for it. And little does Georgia know the agonizing I'll do. She'll wonder why we don't let her go to Cancun for spring break or why we insist she wear a helmet snow skiing. She'll wonder why we make her take self defense class or learn how to run.

I've been given this gift and I'm aware others are in waiting. Or worse, in mourning. I'm not taking this task lightly. Not for a second. I think about being her mom every minute of every hour of every day.

We love you sweet peach.

Mom