I was hurting. Dan was just home from work and had asked me, “How was your day?” “Well…” I started before launching into what had happened and the emotional fallout. I wasn’t crying or yelling; in fact, I don’t know that my voice was much different than normal—I was just concerned. Hurting.
During our discussion Lydia snuck up and wrapped her arms around my leg.
I’ve been a mom with kids hanging on my body for almost thirteen years now, so I noted her presence and probably patted her head, but didn’t think much of it. My focus remained on Dan as my story continued.
Lydia, who is generally non-speaking, reached her arms up, indicating that she wanted to be held. This was unusual—she’s six years old and rarely wants to be held anymore, but she also weighs as much as a toddler and she’s cute, so I humored her and swung her up on my hip. I mom-laughed at her & turned back to Dan, continuing on once more. 😥
But Lydia wasn’t done. She wrapped her arms around me, and gave me a kiss. Now, my girl does not hand out hugs. She loves us, we know it, and we have just accepted that her love language is teasing and laughter and a good game of chase/steal your stuff, but not physical affection. I would even go so far as to say she mostly doesn’t even like hugs. But here we were.
I stopped my tale of woe, attention fully captured.
“Oh!” I responded, comprehending. “You KNOW, don’t you?” And she must have, because that love and those kisses did not stop. She must have recognized Mommy was hurting. And she was showing up.
“Thank you, thank you,” I told her as I hugged & kissed her back. “Thank you, sweet girl.”
She smiled and laughed. And when I put her down, she held my hand and didn’t let go.
