A cry in the night.

I was almost in bed, ready to call it a night when Ella started crying in her sleep.

I went to her and she was sitting in her bed and she put her arms out to me.  When I kissed her face, I could taste the tears.  She was sweaty and still crying.  Mommy’s here…Mommy’s here…I cooed.

“When you and me and Melia all die together, will we get to stay together?”  Yes, baby, but we will be together for a long time before we die.

We rocked and cuddled and she leaned back towards the bed and I tucked her in.  “I was scared.  I was scared of missing you in the dark.”  I am here to keep you safe.

“You will keep me safe in the morning time too and you will be a good mommy, a happy mommy.  You like it when I make you pictures and your face is up {smiling}.”  I try to be a good mommy.  I love you.  I’ll see you in the morning.

That child?  Breaks my heart.  She misses her dad so much.  She is grasping the permanance of it all but just barely.  I wonder what it must be like to be three and be dealt this hand.  I hope I am helping and not harming.  I hope that she doesn’t see too much.  I hope she doesn’t hear too much.  I hope that I have sheltered her enough.  I know that it hurts her when I am sad.  I know that she can’t fathom my loss past her own.  But my heart breaks every time she cries in the night.  With every question, I answer her honestly.  Too honestly.  And maybe it’s too much.  Maybe I need to put her back in the bubble that every three year old ought to be in.  Maybe it’s too late for that.

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