me.

My photo
mommy. wife. teacher. yogini. writer. coffee drinker. aunt. crocheter. reader. dog lover. scattered. methodical. rational. irrational. paranoid. annoyed. lost. found. content. searching. peaceful. i am constantly in search of my story. the one i have never happened. the one i've lived i cannot write.

17 February 2015

to be her mom.

Yesterday
I posted a picture to my Instagram account with the following:

'Car ride convo with my Bug as we drove by the scene of an accident today:
"Mom, when you crashed...when I was in your tummy...were you scared?"
"Yes.  Very."
"Did you cry?"
"No."
"But didn't it hurt when your leg got cut off?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you cry?"
"I had to be brave."
"Why?"
"For you."
Today, my Bug got to hear the story...her story...our story.  And I didn't cry then.  But I did today.'

True story. 
We got home and she asked to see the pictures.
Hear the story.
She stomached it all quite well
which was a bit of surprise given her propensity for being squirmy.
Her favorite part was when I told her about listening to her heartbeat in the trauma center.
Her steady
strong
heartbeat
that sounded like a horse
galloping across the plains.

"I bet that's why I love horses.  Because they're in my heart," she said.

I knew that this day would come
and there will be more like it
where we tell the story
over and over again
so that she knows just how
incredible
brave
strong
she really is.

And I sobbed
as I held her by the shoulders
and told her how lucky I was
to have a leg
to be alive
to be her mom.

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