A tribute to my king.

“It’s terrifying, that unconditional love you have for a child. I still wonder if he really came from me, from my womb. It’s a miracle. I don’t understand it. I live it very intensely.”

That, in it’s core, is the most deep explanation of being a parent. Besides of all the sacrifices, the nightly adventures and the mommy-bags filled with everything for your child and only the bare necessity for you.  We all know the love for our child(ren) is unconditional. And mostly, it’s overwhelming at times.



My son is an old soul. He’s very wise, sensitive and intuitive. And generous, which he gets from his mother. Whenever I watch him with other children, it still surprises me how gentle he is. He will not raise his voice at them or be ‘mean’. He will not bully them. When his girlfriend at school wants to climb om something for example, he gently places his hand on her lower back and helps her up. Which of course makes the hearts of his teacher melts. He will always ask before doing anything. Others may consider him ‘too soft’ but all I see is a beautiful soul. Not focussing in how hard the world is, or other children, but he walks his own path. In his own time.

He believes his kisses are magical and will cure anything. He offers his candy to strangers on the train and makes drawings for them. He helped with our fundraising for our local refugees, in his own way. He’s such a beautiful soul.

I have always raised him with compassion. I didn’t let him ‘cry it out’ as a baby when he was tired. I didn’t have to put hin in daycare as a young child. He had his family. And still does.  I never  forced him to sleep alone in a room, but kept him close to me. To feel my skin, to hear my breathing. It enabled me to put my warm hands on his belly when he was having cramps. He always has an arm to sleep on when he needs some more skin-to-skin love. I still explain everything we do, so he understands. He knows. I answer his questions with honesty.  I teach him to treat all living creatures with respect. I teach him that the word ‘hate’ is a bad word. He doesn’t have to shake hands with strangers if he’s feeling shy. He explores the world in his own pace. Not the one he is expected to follow.

His spirit and innocence fills my heart up with love and pride. Obviously.

“Sometimes when you pick up your child you can feel the map of your own bones beneath your hands, or smell the scent of your skin in the nape of his neck. This is the most extraordinary thing about motherhood – finding a piece of yourself separate and apart that all the same you could not live without.” — Jodi Picoult


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