“Is he too attached?,” I wonder as he cries for me and only me, yet again, as I try to get ready.
“Is he too attached?,” I wonder as he pulls me to him to cuddle while he falls asleep.
“Is he too attached?,” I wonder as he asks me to carry him once more.
Then I remember:
My body was his home.
It grew him.
Nourished him.
Birthed him.
Cuddles him.
Holds him.
Comforts and consoles him.
It’s his home.
I am his safe place.
I’m his mama.
He’s my baby.
He’s not 𝘵𝘰𝘰 attached.
He’s attached.
And rightfully so.
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