Please don’t stop touching me. Your touch is a reminder of who we were before we were parents. Your touch is a reminder of who we are now. And I need you to realize that who I am is now profoundly defined by the meaning of the world Mom. Before, it was the word wife. Before that, is was simply me.
Don’t stop touching me. Your touch reminds me that in order to understand the evolution of my own identity I need to revert back to that girl I see in the frames of our house. That girl I so long to be and just, for a moment, close my eyes so that I can fall hopelessly in love with you again and be reminded that this journey of motherhood isn’t a solo expedition.
Your touch reminds me that I have someone to share it all with. Your touch helps me find my way back to you. To us. To me.
I promise to be better about embracing your touch. And to try to see me through the filter that you use (for I know it is probably more healthy than my own filter). I promise to roll over into your arms instead of constantly away from them. I promise to try in the redefining of myself to not lose the essence of who I was because who I was is the person you first longed to touch. It is the person that longed to be touched. It is the person who started on this journey holding your hand. I promise to always hold your hand.
If you promise not to stop touching me.