I wake up to the sound of my alarm.

5:00 am.

I feel my husband’s arms tighten slightly around my waist. I smile thinking that he has heard the alarm too.  As I slowly move to get up, I hear a soft protest. A kiss on his forehead was all it took.

On a cold May morning, I quietly navigate my way out of our bedroom and into my son’s room. I feel a tug inside me. Guilt? Sadness? Wishful thinking? I feel all of these as I look at my 11-year-old sleeping soundly. When he awakes, I won’t be around as I would’ve left for work. Another missed good-morning-kiss, and another missed breakfast date.

I will myself to move.  It is going to be a busy day.

7:45 am. I’ve got fifteen minutes to enjoy my morning coffee because I have a meeting at 8am. Our CEO will be with me because we are off to meet with a Gold client.

8:00 am. I get a text from my son. “Mumards!” – an inside joke between him, and his dad. I guess that’s what they’re calling me now.

I feel that tug again.

Because I won’t be able to reply or call him. Our meeting is starting.

12 PM. Exhausted from my three meetings in the morning, I look at my calendar and realize I have 2 more for the day. I call my husband to check in. He goes on to tell me about his conversation with our 11-year-old this morning. Again, that tug. I wish I was around too.

2:30 PM. Thinking of going for my second coffee, but I get a text from my husband about the parent-teacher meeting happening later today. I guess coffee is out!

5:30 PM.  As I sat across my son’s homeroom teacher, I feel that tug again. He is doing well. Popular, well-mannered, and smart. My heart swells with pride.

“I can see that you’re really good at your job, Mum!”, my son says.

I feel that tug again.

Yes. Everything is okay.