Mothers’ hearts swell with pride. The nurses all in awe of the big hearty hands of my little man, strength down to the cuticle. I love these hands and I hold them all day long, except of course when the feet need some holding too.
Gratitude. These hands still fill me with pride. My son has hands of a strong man. I miss holding Theo’s hands, feeling the strength of his heart radiating through. But I need not look far, those hands are still gripping, holding, grasping on to love. Theo’s daddy has those very same hands. As Sean takes my hand in his, we cross the streets of grief. I look down and my heart swells once again with that mothering pride. My little man, such big hands!