My kid has never been in real pain and for this I am grateful. We’ve had four trips to the children’s hospital, one was when she grabbed my coffee mug and spilled it down her belly. I had visions of pain and scaring and blaming myself for the rest of ours lives, but she was okay.

Today I am in pain. It’s not the worst pain I’ve ever felt, but it’s a problem I’ve been having with my back lately and it makes it very difficult for me to move around. Today I can’t hold my head up without getting really uncomfortable – the muscles get tired until I just can’t take it any more.

The kid doesn’t understand. She wants to play and I want to play with her, but I can’t do it. I try. I was lying on the floor next to her a little while ago. I was trying to be with her while being comfortable, but she started climbing on me. She likes to climb on me. Of course she does, she’s a toddler. She gave me big hugs and sat on my belly and balanced on my legs. Grandma and I both told her she needed to stop.

She took a little washcloth she has – it came with one of her dolls – and she rolled it up. She put the rolled up washcloth under my back. She told me it was a bandage.

She started climbing on me again, and again Grandma told her she can’t do that because it hurts Mommy.

“But I put a bandage on her back, it’s all better.”

And my heart breaks, just a little.

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