Sometimes

I know everybody asks a least once in their lifetime "why?" or "why me?"
Things happen and you can't make sense of them. Whether it is parents who can't conceive, a child that's gravely ill, a pregnancy that ends too soon… sometimes, eventually, you understand why it had to be that way. Most of the times, you never do.

I have a difficult child. I have the most difficult child I have ever met. I'm apparently destined to have only one, and that one is impossibly hard to deal with. He's been difficult since the age of one.
Friends and family see him only occasionally, and therefore are all very doubtful about his being difficult. You have to live with him to understand it, see it, and witness it. I know. My mother knows. Nobody else understands.

Sometimes I feel so helplessly furious about this. And sometimes I wonder: "WHY? Why did my child, the only child I'll ever have, have to be so unrewarding, so angry, so difficult?" I love children. I had always dreamed of motherhood. I had never thought it would mainly bring me frustration and disapointment. I know I'm harsh. Don't get me wrong, I'd jump in front of a train for my son without even thinking about it. But sometimes, I am just fed up. I ask "WHY?"

Because it wasn't in the cards for me. Because I was meant to be tested that way. Because I have something to learn. Because I have something to give him that no one else could.

I won't give up, dammit. I am smart, I love him. This is just another challenge. I will use my brains and my heart and my patience. Just like I can conjure magic, I will make motherhood a joy.