As I push the stroller up the hill for what feels like the 500th time (and probably is), I am reminded of my mistakes. The physical burden of pushing a child in a stroller up a hill is heavy. It’s hard work, but not as hard as the emotional toll I face everyday. Pushing a stroller up the hill is a metaphor for my struggles.The mistakes that I made lead me to drag myself up the hills of life, with the weight of them taking their toll on me constantly. At first it didn’t seem like it would be this hard. The bottom of the hill was just the beginning of the struggle, but here I am still on this hill, slowly pushing my way to the top. I’m fighting. I’m fighting everything that life has to throw at me. All of the stones and cracks in the ground make it hard for the stroller to have a smooth ride up the hill. I can relate this to the stones and cracks in the ground in my life. Sometimes the struggles that come my way are small. They are just mere stones that make life a little bumpy for a while, but overall don’t cause too much pain. Then there are the cracks in the ground. The struggles that seem so big that I have no clue how to even begin to tackle them. I have to slow down the stroller almost completely just to go over them. This is no different than the cracks that are on the ground in my life. It feels as though I am walking up this giant hill and a huge gap gets in the way, causing me to have to slow down. I have to slow my plans down. I have to slow my life down just to make it over the crack without being completely thrown off the path I am headed on, but still I keep fighting. I’m fighting with myself. I’m fighting with myself everyday to keep pushing on up the hill. I am exhausted. I feel as though the top of the hill will never come, and the truth is, I’m still far from it. I know that I still have a long ways to go. I know that I will be pushing the stroller up the hill for what seems like forever, but I still have hope. I pull down the sun visor on the top of the stroller and see two glistening eyes staring into mine. A smile begins to appear across the cheeks of a baby boy. A baby boy who is the product of my mistakes, but is not a mistake at all. He is a blessing. He is my blessing. He gives me hope. He physically wears me out to the point where I don’t think I can go on any longer. He mentally wears me out to the point where I don’t even know what to do with him anymore. He emotionally wears me out with the amount of attention that he needs constantly, but the second he looks into my eyes and flashes me that sweet smile, all the pain seems to just go away. The hill doesn’t seem as challenging anymore. It may be bumpier and slower than I ever thought it would be, but I will keep fighting. I will keep fighting until I reach the top, for I know when I get there, I will be able to turn around and look back at what I accomplished. I will be able to look into the sky and see the most beautiful sunset in the distance amidst the houses and the trees. I will be able to look back and see the crazy path that I accomplished, and it will be beautiful. But for now, I have to keep pushing the stroller up that hill. I have to keep going. If I stop pushing the stroller because I am too exhausted, I will miss the sunset at the top of the hill. If I give up because the road gets tough, I won’t ever make it to the top. Just like the sun sets in the distance, the struggles that I am facing will soon set as well. I just have to keep going.