Strong

Over the past few years people have told me I am strong.

Not to question anyone's opinions, but once the house is tucked, covered in thick slumber I wonder.  Each and every parent I know would be just as "strong" for their kids if they needed to be.  What parent wouldn't move the world for their kids? How does merely doing what is best for my kids make me strong?  To me, it just makes me like any other parent out there.

Here's the thing, I'm not strong, I'm a mom, but I see strength each and every day.

 Cole is strong each time he gulps another syringe of the slticky white and pink meds he hates.  Cole is strong each day we walk into his infusion room.  Cole is strong as he asks the nurses for no needles yet he sticks his arm out knowing he needs them.  Cole is strong each time his sisters walk out the door for something he cannot be a part of.

My girls are also strong, both have defended friends who have been bullied and been themselves when it could have been easier to follow the crowd.  My girls are strong when even at 7 and 9, wise beyond their years, they can accept difficult sacrifices and understand certain things are better for Cole.

Each of my kids show me incredible strength, and for that, I am proud.  As a parent, I only wish for their strengths to continue to grow and thrive.  As for me, I'm merely surviving each day of parenthood with my husband, clawing our ways out of the bad days, cherishing each moment of sweetness, and being there for our kids each step of the way.  None of it makes us strong, it merely makes us parents trying to do the best we can for the three people we both love more than anything else in this world.