The day we found out the commissioner had decided that they had to go live with their dad. I sat the girls down in the living room and told them what was happening.
all of us were crying.
my little one. only three years old. she climbs in my lap.....she's so tiny.
like a little bug.
and she curls up in a ball.....and she squeezes her eyes so tight shut......
she doesn't make any noise...and i just hold her and hold her, and i don't cry.....i try so hard not to cry.....
and the biggest crocodile tears are dripping out of her tight squeezed eyes. she doesn't sob, her body doesn't shake, she just lays so still in my arms, and her tight squeezed eyes just drip.
and she cries herself to sleep that way in my lap.
i HAVE to cry, i have to SOB.
so i lay her on my bed and cover her.....
and i go outside and i just bawl.
then i call her dad in colorado.
and i yell at him like i have never yelled at him before.
all the years of pain and torture come out in one tirade.
i probably shouldn't have....but it hurt so much.
my baby.
my littlest who'd never spent a night away from me.
will i ever stop hurting?



