Recently I tried to explain to my youngest child what it feels like to have your heart broken. She asked, “Does it bleed?”, “Can the Doctor make it feel better?”, “Does it hurt when it breaks?” and I hesitantly replied with “No. No. Hopefully not too bad.” And then I realized as much as I want to, I will not be able to shield my kids from hurt. I can kiss boo-boo’s, get rid of the boogie man in the closet and place band-aids on non-existent cuts, but what I can’t do is protect them from when someone or something breaks their hearts.
It dawned on me that on their journey through this life, there will be love and love lost. There will be ups and subsequent downs and all I can do is talk them through how to deal with the hurt. When I was hurting, my journal became my best friend and I spent many nights eating my way through a carton of Blue Bell Vanilla Bean ice cream. The ice cream worked its delivish magic on my waistline, but the journal helped me heal past all the ex-boyfriends, lost jobs, gained pounds and missteps. I gave my baby a hug and reassured her, that although her heart would never physically break (although it might feel like it has), I would always be there to hold her close, share her favorite ice cream and remind her how beautiful she is.
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