I'm a Crier....

Or at least I was last night when I finally finished The Book Thief. This book had been recommended by multiple friends, and I started it weeks ago, but I have to say I had a hard time getting into it. It required a lot of concentration in the beginning until the plot started to weave together more, and I kept thinking I needed to stick with it because I was sure it wouldn't have received such rave reviews for nothing. I am so glad that I finished it! Around half way through, it really picked up for me, and last night I stayed up late reading the last 150 pages. And bawling. Completely. For those of you who have not yet read it, I highly recommend it, and also would say stick with it because all of the strands of plot are woven together in a beautiful way.

I think aside from books, I'm a crier in general. I often try to be tough, more when I was a teenager, but even sometimes now, and I'll walk around with a big burning lump in my throat because I'm trying not to let the emotions flow. But especially since I've become a mother, I've realized more and more that it's ok to show those emotions, and things that I never would've thought to cry about suddenly hit me with such force. I think parenthood brings such a heightened sensitivity to the world around us. I've teared up at the beauty of the earth. I've teared up cuddling with my kids and feeling like my heart will pop out of my chest with the depth of love I feel for them. I've always been one to kind of wear my emotions on my sleeve, even when I've tried to stifle tears, but I think as a Mom, I'm allowing myself more to show emotion without regret. I think I want my kids to feel like they can share what they're feeling, to be authentic, to work through things together and be there for each other, and I guess in some ways I feel like if I don't do the same, then I'm not setting a great example.

Although one day, this didn't turn out as I'd hoped. I was reading a book to Addie when I was pretty pregnant with Sam. It's called Tell Me My Story, Mama by Deb Lund. It's about a mom telling her daughter about when she was pregnant with her and how she got here, and then at the end it talks about how the new baby will have it's own story too. During the course of the story, they get to the best part.

"The best part was when I saw you for the first time. When you heard my voice, you stopped crying. You took two of my fingers in your fist, and you looked me in the eyes. And when Daddy talked, you looked up at him, too. We all looked at each other, and then we knew what we had all been waiting for."

I was sobbing trying to read this to Addie for the first time, and then she started sobbing and asked me to put the book away. I guess my authenticity of emotion backfired that day- it was a little scary to hear mom's squeaky crying voice when you're not even 2 yet. Maybe I should try to read it to her again soon. Maybe I'll make it through without crying. Or maybe with just a tear instead of the squeaky voice scary cry. But if not, that's ok too.