Nothing Will Ever Change How Much I Love You

Kicking, screaming, “I don’t want to be in your family”-ing. I was out of breath. We were both crying.

And as I looked across the room and saw her, the very last thing I wanted to do was scoop her up into my arms. But she needed to be rescued.

Out of her rage and terror and confusion, out of the survival mode—this time the “fight” in fight/flight/freeze—her brain had convinced her she needed. So I pulled her on my chest where we sat together.

Her breathing relaxed, punctuated by sporadic sobs; her heart rate slowed, matching the steady beat of the chest she leaned into; and her whole self began to melt. My heart fell into my stomach, broken for the little girl who battles so much, so intensely, so often.

The love I have and was acting in, I began to feel again, and I whispered in her ear, “I love you, little girl. I will love you always and forever. Nothing will ever change how much I love you.”