I heard you whimpering quietly from across the room. I checked in on you only to find you still asleep, your face flushed red, your brow furrowed in frustration. I held your hand, my fingers covering most of your forearm - stroked your faced; told you Mommy was there - expecting you to wake. You quieted immediately, your muscles relaxing, the tension disappearing from your face. I think of how many times in your life I'll be able to do this for you. I think of how many times I won't. And my heart breaks.
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