I wake up in the middle of the night to a sick little girl year old calling out "Mommy". She reaches out her skinny little hand so that she can feel that I am there. I hug her and tell her everything is ok. She just wants to know that someone is there to protect her.
The little girl that has been neglected, abused, and abandoned time and time again. A child just 1/3 my age, who has been through more than I could ever imagine. A princess who has had to fight for her life on too many occasions.
She doesn't trust me. She doesn't trust anyone. I can't blame her. She cries every time I leave the room. She doesn't know that I will always come back. She doesn't understand why she must take medicine. She tells me she doesn't feel good, but still she pushes on. She's never had anyone to care for her before.
I didn't plan to be called mommy at this age, but she didn't plan on losing hers either. So I let her call me as she wants. I fill in the gap that left her little heart in pieces, and slowly we begin to heal.