Last night, I put the kids to bed, poured some wine, popped in a movie and picked up my knitting.
Then I heard it: the awful sound of something, or someone, falling down the stairs. All of them.
THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP!
Sure enough, it was my 3 year old, who had gotten up to ask for a glass of water. By the time I ran over there, she lay at the bottom on the stairs, shrieking.
I picked her up quickly and checked her over. No bruises, eyes clear, no vomiting, no bumps. She was crying and scared, but ok.
And then, it started.
I want Daddy! I want my Daddy now!
My soon-to-be Ex-husband moved out over a month ago, and the transition has been a little difficult for both girls, but especially my 3 yr old. For the first few weeks, she cried for her daddy every night, for hours. Nights were spent holding her, comforting her, and trying to respect the power of the emotions she was feeling.
Every episode was like a chip at my heart. It made me doubt every choice I made, or would be making.
Gradually, she had begun to accept the situation, and things were getting better.
But now she sat on my lap, tears coursing down her cheeks, begging me to call her father and tell him to come home.
I hugged her and told her that I understood how she felt, and how it was okay to be sad. I explained that we would call her Daddy in the morning and she could speak to him then. She eventually fell back asleep.
This morning she woke up happy and calm. I asked if she wanted to call her daddy and she shook her head no.
You listened last night Mommy, so now I don’t have to.
Maybe, just maybe, my heart will survive this after all.
Shelly is a WAHM to two girls and a baby boy. You can find her daily at Adventures of a Breastfeeding Mother