Day 11: The Comfort of a Hug

Last night was the first time I somewhat panicked because I had no clue what to write about and my desire to write anything at all was minimal. I realized this is going to be a long 90 days for me. So I decided to solicit some help on topics I should write about. I got some great ideas and I've added them to a list so when I get stumped I'll have something to fall back on. Or I can take up another great suggestion and just freewrite whatever comes to mind even if it seems to be nothing.

I was actually prepared to do this tonight until I picked up Cambria from her after-school program. Holy cow did my heart melt. I walked in the cafeteria where the kids do activities and she was sitting on the floor between a lunch table and the wall, huddled up with her coat and backpack on, crying to a counselor. The past few days I've noticed that she's been alone when I've come to pick her up. I actually asked the counselor about it yesterday and she said she's noticed it too, but Cambria seemed to be content with it. 

I walked over and kneeled down, asking what was wrong. What I got in return was hard to keep up with. Through sad and exhausted teary eyes and huffs for air Cambria explained one thing after another - from how much she missed her pet bunny and that she was confused because she didn't realize she was her pet to take care of and we had to give her away, to how she felt none of the kids wanted to play with her and all she wanted was attention in the form of kids wanting to play with "that girl." She said the kids always feel like she talks too much and she never gets picked to be on their team. She said she never got a chance to say goodbye to Selma and Scarlet the last time they were with us and she missed Mauricio and was mad that he never called. When I let her know that neither him nor I realized she wanted to talk with him and of course she could, she replied "It's not that, it's just that he should at least call. That's what Daddies do." Then broke down in tears again.
 
Of course this nearly broke my heart. It was already on edge. It's so hard to remain calm and collected when you're watching your little child in so much pain. Pain that you can't fix. Pain that you know will always be a reality for the rest of their life. For her to drop this bomb was almost enough to make ME lose it right there in the middle of the lunchroom with her! 

I'm sorry Cambria! I'm so sorry. I also don't always understand why the Universe makes us go through these things. All I know is that you are strong and you'll grow to be even stronger. This will pass and everything will be okay. I don't exactly know what the "okay" part looks like quite yet, but I know it will be okay! I'm sorry you miss Bella. I'm sorry you didn't get a chance to say goodbye to Selma and Scarlet and I'm sorry their mom didn't feel like letting them call us to say hi. I'm sorry that you were asked to take your coat off when the after-school group was going into the gym to play games. I know your humungous winter coat is your comfort blanket right now and you hate taking it off. I understand you were upset because you asked why it was a problem and the director told you it was your hood and you offered a completely reasonable solution to unzip the hood off and she responded by telling you to stop arguing with her and to sit down. I would be mad too! Hell I AM mad! I'm mad that this adult wasn't more patient with you and that she doesn't seem to be as sensitive and sweet as the last director that we all loved. But this is life, sweetie. This is sometimes how life goes. It's not fun and it can hurt. But I promise it will be okay. I promise I'll always be here for you to comfort, love and protect you. To help you learn everything I know. To help you understand and be patient. To help you to be tough and resilient. To be adaptable and persistent. To be optimistic, accepting and loving. To be unconditionally loving. And to believe. Never stop believing in the magical, beautiful, meaningful thing we call life.

Of course I couldn't actually tell her all that. So I just hugged her. And I held her. I held her like I used to hold her when she was a toddler and got hurt. She cried on my shoulder. And I just squeezed her tight. Burying her head into my neck. Wrapping my arms around her as if I were a blanket of comfort. A shield of love. 

We just sat there....for probably 20 minutes. Didn't care who was around us. I told her I loved her and that we'll find a way to work all of this out. And I know we will.