The Littlest Therapist

In the early days of this crisis, when Paul and I were confronting some ugly truths about our marriage and what it's become, I was nauseous all the time. I worked out constantly (I'm still working out a lot, but I no longer get panicky if I skip a day). I couldn't eat for a few days. I've been losing a little weight, something of an oddity in the third trimester, especially as this New Baby continues to grow at a rather precocious rate. One morning, after not having eaten for a couple of days, I suddenly found myself bent over the kitchen sink, vomiting and vomiting until not even green bile was left. Everytime Paul touched me or told me he loved me, I'd burst into tears.

Ellie was very perceptive about all of this. She has only recently turned three, and in a lot of ways - especially in her language skills - she's still younger than that, but she's always been very tuned in to the moods of those around her. Even if Paul and I were sitting in the same room or walking on the same path, talking, she'd try to form a bridge between us, holding both his hand and mine, often trying to force us closer together.

My precious daughter is still always excited to see me when I arrive to pick her up from school, but in those first days - very unusually - she didn't want to leave with me. "No," she'd say, after greeting me with a hug and grin. "More!" she'd say to the teacher who was reading books or singing songs with her. When I suggested that we could read and sing together at home, she'd sit down on the floor and cry. Home was where things were not right. At school, at anywhere else, things were still normal. She seemed completely unconcerned when we spent several days leaving her with friends, often for extended periods, while we talked and cried or visited with our new therapist.

Even now, when things are - not better, but at least not as shocking, and regaining a veneer of normalcy - Ellie is still working on trying to physically hold her parents' marriage together.

At dinner time (and breakfast time, and anytime we sit down together at the table) she suggests that we "Pray!" holding out her hands expectantly, waiting for Paul and me to each take one of her hands and then each others'. We do this several times each meal.

Ellie remains a wonderful sleeper, flowing through the bedtime routine and going to sleep without complaint in the evenings, then sleeping through the night. When she wakes too early, she often will play alone in her room until close to 6:30, an acceptable time to come find Mama and Daddy.

Yesterday was a better day for me, though Friday and Saturday were bad days. But this morning, Ellie awoke at 4:45 and came into our room in the dark. "Up!" she said, then snuggled in between us on the bed and went back to sleep. In her sleep, she reached out her hands and placed one on Paul's face, one on my own.

Thank you all for the kind comments and emails. I appreciate them - and the thoughts and prayers that come with them - very much.