Miss Ella is finally asking the deep direct questions that we're not prepared to answer. At least to a 4yo. We're caught between not answering and giving too much information. Here's what she asked us (separately) last night:

Me & Ella: Umm, it wasn't your mom who died. Yes, it was my mom who died. Do you miss her? Yes, very much, every day. And you cry sometimes right? Yes, sometimes I do cry when I miss her. Do you miss her right now? Yes. And you only get one mommy right? Yes, we only get one Mommy. (I didn't want to confuse this talk with adoption talk.) So, you don't have a Mommy? No, I don't have a mommy. (She looks at me with the most loving eyes while crawling into my lap.) It's ok Mommy. When I grow up, I'll be your mommy and take care of you. No, I'm your mommy and my job is to take care of you. Maybe when you grow up and if you want, have kids, you can be their mommy. (She starts to cry.) But...but...I don't want anyone to have to cut my tummy to get the baby out! (I chuckle)Well, not every baby has to be cut out of a mommy's tummy. You didn't have to be cut out. You just came out (understatement of the year people!) Like out of your belly button? No. Your nose? Mouth? (Sigh...I don't want this talk now!) Women have a special place for babies to come out. (OK, she knows girls & women have vaginas, but knowing how sensitive she is, I think the idea of a baby coming out of a vagina might be too much/scary for her.) Oh...where? (I have no memory of how this ended other than my retort of) Just a special place, we'll talk more when you get older.

Daddy & Ella: Mommy's mom died, right? Yes. Daddy, I miss Mommy's mom. Does she miss her? Yes, very much. We all do. Even Andrew & Cinnamon? Yes, because they see how much it hurts your Mommy that her mommy isn't here. But I miss her so much! I didn't even get to play with her.

They talked more and more about missing my mom and eventually the hubby had to talk about diabetes and how maybe one day Mommy might get it, but that's why we try to eat the right foods and exercise.

The hubby said to me this morning, "I feel like her whole innocence about death is gone." I just looked at him and said, "Yes, it's been gone." And of course, I swore at my mom under my breath.

I've never, to my recollection, promised that I'll always be here for her. Gawd forbid that I get hit by a bus and then she's left with my broken promise. The ghost of my mom hovers over that over-used, but rarely fulfilled promise. I wish I could tell her that and believe it, but sadly I know all too well that I shouldn't. I can see her remembering that one thing at age 4 and then throwing it back at me as I lay dying in my very, very old age. It would be oh-so-Ella.

She loves and cares so deeply. She got that from her daddy. Her heart is like an open wound all the time. She is crushed so easily. How can I ever prepare her for the harshness of the world? I want to keep her at home and protect her from it all. I feel like she was born with a broken heart.

Labels: Ella