Tell me a Story

I lent on the door frame, half drunken bottle of milk in one hand, battered story book in the other as I watched my adorable baby son sleeping. I thought about how lucky I was to have such a special little thing to look after, protect, care for, cuddle and watch grow up. I thought back to my pregnancy and how exciting it had all been for me and Jack my partner. How we'd both watched those first tiny movements on the ultrasound scan, how we'd both prayed for nine longs months that everything was going to be ok. Now as I watched him sleeping. I realised I was the luckiest person alive.

As I left the room, leaving the story bookbehind anddiscarding the half drank bottle in the sink with the rest of the days dishes I started to feel that all too familiar feeling of loneliness creep over me. I loved being a mum, andmy son meant everything to me, yet, at this point of the day when he wasin his world of hopefully nice, happy, exciting dreamsI felt alone. You see Jack hadn't taken to being a parent quite as easily as I had, and only weeks after ouradorable little boy was born he'd found it appropriate to set up a separate home with a girl he workedwith ten yearshis junior. I had been so angry and upset back then, but eventually managed to get over it. Yet, now, at my loneliest part of the day I couldn't help but miss him.

My friends had all been great during the split, my best friend in particular, she had immediately started planning my diary for me, throwing me intodaily activities with my son to fill up my maternity leave, introducingme to other new mums, even trying to get me to join numerous dating sites or talk to her single male friends. I quickly gained a circle offriends on the new mum circuit, but dating and men didn't interest me. I had a baby to cuddle, andcaring for him and watching him grow was exciting enough. I didn't need anything else was what I used to say.

But, at this point of the day, when all that was gone, I felt lonely, hurt and unloved. I wanted someone to tell me I was their everything, someone to tell me I wasspecial and needed and someone for me to tell the same. Yet, every time I got close to someone the fear of getting hurt all over again quickly took over, and I ran a mile. As I slumped onto the sofa flicking the remote from one pointless programme to another I heard a little squeak coming from the babies room. I listened attentively as the squeak turned into a cry.....

As I cradled my son in my arms his crying stopped and turned to gentle babbling accompanied with a smile, he looked at me with his adorable dark eyes. It was then I knew that I am far from being lonely, I am very special and very needed, I am somebodies everything, and right now, for the time being, there is only one special person that needs my cuddle .........