11 years ago, my life changed in ways I never knew were possible.
Jones’ entry into our lives was a much anticipated and wanted event, but Jones didn’t come alone. He brought along some baggage in the form of sleepless nights, breastfeeding difficulties, food allergies, and postpartum depression.
It was a beautiful autumn, at least as far as the pictures show.
But for me, it was dark. I remember it as a constantly grey time. I spent a lot of time sitting on the couch, crying. I couldn’t see past the exhaustion and incredible neediness that came along with this wonderful addition to our family.
Enter running. One slow mile showed me an inkling of light. And slowly, I started running back to myself. Within a few weeks, I was smiling again. Crying was no longer an hourly event or even a daily occurrence. Slowly but surely, running gave my son the gift of a happy mom.
11 years later, we’ve had our challenges. But whenever it gets to be too much, I run. It centers me. It gives me the patience I need to handle everything that comes my way. As we enter the “tween” years, I know there will continue to be challenges. And I will continue to run.
Happy Birthday, Jones.
Thank you for making me a mom. And a runner.