falling girls

Eyes fell out of bed tonight while B. was out. From my study I heard a crash and then a cry. I bolted for her room and groped for her at the side of her bed. She was not fully awake nor fully asleep, and not knowing this I kept wondering if I should turn on a light, see if she was injured, call B., or just stay rocking her, which is what I did. I held her and rocked like a chair on her bed until her arms fell away and her head slipped sideways.

This is the second time he has left me with her since I moved a month ago. The last time she woke while he was gone and needed to poop. It was my first encounter with wiping a child's rear. Maybe I did this in high school as a babysitter, but I didn't babysit much. With Eyes the activity was important, but the communication was far more. Where was her daddy? Was that his car? Was that his car? Would I have a baby brother for her? And lastly, did the poop go directly into the ocean? It was my duty to help her feel as calm and as safe as I could without him. I was not beyond calling him home, but I wanted so badly for her to be safe with me and to know that she was safe.

Eyes is really my first, and not mine at all. Tonight I met her mother for the first time since moving here, and while the dinner went well, I was only more aware that I am not Eyes's momma. I'm not upset about that, but I also don't know what to think about it. So when Eyes needs me, when after a long day where parental roles are adjusted and displayed, when my man has felt the need to disconnect and I have found myself feeling equally disconnected I believe universe has made these moments with her explicitly possible. And I am grateful for them.