Dear Little Leah,
I did it again. I went and had one of those days. I'm tired. I'm emotional. And I'm just not perfect.
I've worried a lot about you lately. A lot a lot. Your seizures. Your hitting. Your instability. And I fear I just don't know how to be your mom. I'm trying my best, I really am.
I want what's best for you. But I'm afraid sometimes I don't even know what is best.
And when I think I've figured out what is best, I don't know how to accomplish it.
I truly believe you have untapped potential. But I don't know your limits or how hard I should push you to reach that potential.
I know there are things I could be doing that I'm not.
I know there are things I should be doing that I'm not.
I know there are things I'm doing that I probably shouldn't be doing.
And so I continue to worry. I worry about how life is going to change in the next few weeks and how it might affect you. I worry about how it might affect me and my ability to care for you. I worry about our girl's only summer and if I'll even be able to survive. But if I do, I worry that I won't have the energy to give you all you need with a new little one in our house. I don't want you or your needs to fall to the wayside, and I'm just not sure how to balance it all (after all, I only have two arms and you usually take up both of them).
And so, put all those thoughts into a bowl, mix them up with my tears, fears and other emotions and you kind of have a wreck of a mom tonight. Sorry about that. It's just one of those days.
I love you. Really, I do. Even though I made you eat all of your dinner and you didn't want to.