needed

My daughter is curious. She is 13 months old and passionate about discovery. Like most new people in the world. I don't remember a time when she wasn't this way, so growing up together thus far has been void of her seeming to need me for much. She loves me to be sure. She loves with her whole body, throwing herself on me and rolling around. But most of the time, she just wants to do her own thing. And I can watch if I want to. She'll love me as part of her play.

Her curiousness is not confined to stuff. She loves people, too. A flirt. At breakfast, she smiles and waves "Hi" to strangers. She even taps people on the back. When she went to her newest daycare--her third--they warned us that we may have to pick her up early on the first day, to maintain her sense of security. There was no phone call. She introduced herself to everyone and everything was just fine.

This morning we went to the doctor for her several month check-up. The nurse we see is lovely. "I love big babies," she says. "It's good for them." Undress, weight, height. Back to the room to wait for the actual physician.

Her doctor is an interesting character. A Boomer. Jeans somewhat pegged and plaid flannel showing where the cuffs turn up. We saw him walk past us in a leather jacket once. He has mentioned that he goes to the gym, and tells me that he hates our governor as much as I must, because he knows where I work and knows how brutal it has been with the budget cuts. A mix of familiarity and a bedside manner from, perhaps, the 1940s. He's sweet, really.

The point of this description is to let you know there is nothing strange about him. He's a normal person. With a medical degree.

My daughter was playing near me but not on me. Reading books. Talking and making cow noises. In walks the doctor.

And she loses her cotton-picking mind. Complete and total meltdown. Planets exploding in her eyes.

I laughed in disbelief. I couldn't help it. I was thunderstruck. She reached for me and held onto me like a cub, clinging her paws on the undersides of my arms. I couldn't even turn her around without her wailing. He listening to her chest and said loudly above her cries, "You look like you played volleyball!" "I did!" I said. Really, is was just my freshman year, and I wasn't good. At all. He kept asking me sports questions and I answered back, gently holding her down as he examined her further for whatever she is supposed to be. We were talking at a loud yell over the tomato-faced cub. Which was interesting, because I currently don't have a voice. It has been taken temporarily, I assume, by some viral illness or something. I wasn't yelling at the Olympics.

It was over. At least that part. Next were the shots, but a reprieve before. Us alone in the room. Me and her.

She held me close and I held her back. I pressed my hand to the side of her head to move it closer to my chest. I swayed a little and because I can't talk, I whispered a song to her. Her breathing slowed. I moved my hand to her back and noticed that her head stayed just as tightly pressed as if I had been forcing it there. The niceness of this moment. The need I felt from her, there was almost a sense of guilt at my joy of being needed while she feared the world that has always been her pearl. I felt so much a mom. It was so nice.

The rest of the visit was tough for her as well. And I coaxed her into comfort and back into her clothes. "Time to go to school," I said. I wondered if I would need to take her home and hold her tightly again. Maybe she was too traumatized to be apart from me. I'll drive here there and see how it goes. One foot in front of the other has always been my motto. One foot in front until you fall down.

We arrived at daycare. Step one and two and three. Into the bungalow. Washed her hands. Four and five and six.

"She went to the doctor this morning. It was a little rough."

"Well, she seems fine now."

I looked at her fully then. She was playing far away from me again. I started to walk away.

"Bye!" The enthusiastic familiar jewel she gives me and everyone else.

The phantom embrace was still there. I felt it, warmer than the sun that fell around me. The only sun there is to feel.