In my life, I've had occassion to be proud of myself. I've had occassion to be proud of others. To be proud of yourself or someone else for an accomplishment or simply "just because" is a wonderful feeling. Nothing could have prepared me for how proud I would be of my son.
If he smiles? My eyes well up with tears of pride.
If he giggles? My eyes well up with tears of pride.
If he does something new for the first time? My eyes well up with tears of pride.
This was true of the first smile, the first grasp of a toy, the first time he help his head up during tummy time, the first time he rolled over, and the first time he sat unassisted.
If he exists (and he does!)? My eyes well up with tears of pride.
There is no accomplishment on the face of the earth that could be more important than bringing my child (and future children, we hope) into this world. In my womb, he grew ready for life. In my arms, he grows ready for life. In my eyes, he will always be my baby.
While I am proud of myself for my role in his life as his Mama, I am far more proud simply of him. In every way, I adore him, and I am proud of every move he makes.
Now please excuse while I go mop up the puddle of pride-tears I cried while writing this post.