he sleeps in my arms now. as beautiful, as peaceful as an angel.
but the last thing he said before he fell asleep?
he looked into my eyes.
he snarled, “i hate you.”
my four year old hates me.
he wishes i was dead.
maybe he doesn’t mean it…probably he doesn’t mean it.
but how could i blame him if he did? after all,
i spent 42 weeks hating him.
i spent 42 weeks wishing he was dead.
what kind of mother am i? not the mother he deserves.
“i hate me too,” i assure him. “i hate me too.”
my fourth child. my quixotic child. he was the only one i didn’t plan. the only one i didn’t hope & wish for. and every day since he was conceived has been a struggle for me. i love him. i truly do, & i wouldn’t trade him for the world. he is an amazing little person…but every day is a struggle. and i wonder what my struggle has done to him.
if you are interested, here is a creative non-fiction piece i wrote about my pregnancy with him.
Quixotic Mama 
Yeah. I feel you here. Heart wrenching reality. Perhaps he’ll come to a point where he sees you for you. And recognizes the spark of love amongst the flames of “hate”.
LikeLiked by 1 person
he loves me just as fiercely as he hates me. he is a very very headstrong child–which i both admire & struggle with. i am trying to teach him better ways to express his anger. but sometimes i just don’t have the energy for it ❤
LikeLiked by 1 person
My oldest is like that. Strong willed. Creative. Assertive. Speaks her mind. It’s good and annoying at the same time. We both just say our minds. We’re used to just be alone together. She’s just about six. Soooo yeahhh….
LikeLiked by 1 person