I got P ready for bed, a rare treat for us as I'm usually rocking A to sleep.
I was putting away the last of P's books as he dressed himself. Suddenly he stopped and turned to me.
"I have something important to tell you."
"Oh? What is it?"
"Everynight I have dreams."
"I have dreams that you die."
I had to stop then, and turn to fully look at my very little boy, look at his worried, open eyes, honest and searching. It took me a second to find my words.
And we spoke then about his feelings and his first mother and how his experience as an infant is affecting him now, and how to help process his fears and emotions.
And then we went about our night, reading and cuddling and kissing him goodnight as he smiled sweetly and drifted off into a blissful slumber.
I can't imagine what it would be like for that child if he lived in a home where he couldn't speak about his history openly. And I'm so, so glad that we've reached a place where he has the verbal ability to communicate just about everything he needs to, as well as the ability to reason and understand what we're trying to communicate.
And above and beyond it all, I'm so grateful that he trusts us. So, so grateful.
Lily in a loafing barn
2 months ago