It can all break your heart

Having a child is hard - excrutiating. It isn't the chasing after, or the carrying around, or the constant need to be cheerful, or even the twenty-four-hours-a-day of it all. At times, I'm sure my heart will just break. It's simply too much. It's too much pride when he tells me the ceiling fan is shaped like a star. It's too much empathy when he is afraid. It's an overwhelming joy when he sings "Honey Pie" or "Don't You Worry 'Bout a Thing Mama" to me or says "to town" at the end of "Santa Claus is coming...." It's an unnatural wave of happiness when I see his happy little face in the morning, and hear him calling "daddy....dad?" from his crib. It's too much frustration when he throws the food from the tray for the fiftieth time. It's too much love when he grabs my face and leans in saying "Mwaaa" to give me a kiss. It is just exhausting to feel so much every day. I don't know how much my heart can stand. The depth of it all is something I had never known.