The sound of my heart breaking. It sneaks up on me sometimes when I least expect it but it happens more frequently now that I am a mother.
I suppose all moms know what I mean; that tight squeeze of your heart strings when your baby falls, or gets picked on, or well ... whatever.
The other night, as Jack scooted around our cul-de-sac, Jay, Megan and I walked around the back of the house to look at our newly built shed and ponder where the shelves should go.
About 5 minutes later, I heard Jack crying-really hard, and from inside our house, I heard him yell in a panicked voice what sounded like,"Is anyone here?!?"
I walked to the house calling his name. I assumed he must have fallen and scraped his knee but as I got closer, there was no sign of blood and all the signs of pure terror in my 5 year-old's face. "What's wrong buddy?" I asked as I scooped him up into my arms.
Jack: I (gasp)...couldn't (sob)...find...you (more sobs)
Me: Awww, did you think we left you?
Jack: (sob) Yes!
Me (looking him right in the eye): Look at me...look at me...We would NEVER leave you. Never.
Me: Never! We would never leave you behind.
Jack: But what if someone stole me away?
Me: We'd look for you until we found you.
Jack: You'd never give up?
Me: We'd NEVER give up.
Jack: What if someone put me in a box and sent me to China?
Me: Then we'd go to China and look for you until we found you.
And in that short minute, with that brief exchange, I felt it- my breaking heart. In that short moment, it was so important to me that he know, really and truly know, that we'd NEVER give up-even if it meant we had to go to China and search through boxes. I'd do it. No question.