“You matter. Your feelings matter. I’m here.” I whispered to my fragile four-year-old after a meltdown over a band-aid. A band-aid.
It took me a moment to realize this had nothing to do with a band-aid and everything to do with being the middle child. Forgotten. Lost-in-the-mix. Something I swore would never happen.
Her older sister demanded attention based on personality alone. Her two-year old sister threw daily tantrums to keep us occupied. And the newborn baby was a constant presence.
Harper had merely slipped through the cracks. Behaving, going-with-the-flow like she had never done before. And before we knew it, 15 weeks had passed without much fanfare.
Until tonight. Until I looked into her little face and realized how long it had been since I had truly looked at her. Held her. Told her just how very much I adored her.
She wept. Released the dam of tears she’d held back for so long. I rocked her and cried right along with her, realizing my ignorance.
Four daughters. One mother. So little time for any one of us.
And yet each one matters.
Each. One. Matters.
Camille Vaughan Photography